Sushi

It was seventy five degrees and the dewpoint was sixty two. The wind was a gentle south by southwest breeze of six miles per hour and visibility was high. The conditions were perfect for my first daring lunge.

I managed for twenty seven years to avoid this. I said never in Neverland, but unlike Pan I was doing what I said I’d never do. There was no Tinkerbell or Captain Hook, and Wendy had left long ago. This was a crossroads, a quandary, and a burden no one should bare.

I could not ask for help and let her…or them onto my ignorance. This was a game of sly and cunning, one better than Bond ever dreamt of. I scanned for my choices several times. I could not afford to be wrong, but I needed to hurry. The pressure was mounting. This was the bottom of the ninth, it was the last play with time expiring, it was the moment I was waiting for.

Before I arrived at the location, I had visualized the situation. Each time I did, the same problem presented itself. I steeled my mind with one thought; DON’T THROW UP! It was still the only thought I could manage to electronically elicit through my neural synapses.

And so now was the time. I checked all exit paths and angles of attack one last time before I slowly began to pull the trigger. Like the rat tat tat of automatic fire, the words Spicy Tuna stumbled out like spent shell casings. I relaxed my index finger and relinquished my side arm with reckless abandon. They didn’t know my true identity, my cover was safe for now.

It was time for the ultimate showdown. If I could pass this test, no one would ever know. There were only two of us; the Colombian with her impish smile, deep eyes, rich accent, and infinite sushi knowledge and myself, the novice. When our order arrived, it was on one serving dish. I was confused. “Where was my meal,” I wondered aloud. She asks the same-my cover intact I approached the server warily. I asked if my order was on the way and he stared blankly back-the whites of his eyes like a white domino with one small black dot on each side.

It is obvious to me from his posturing that my meal is sitting on the same plate as the Colombian’s. I return to my seat and she is eating. We make small talk and still I am hesitant to take the last step. The weapon of choice is two small, wooden sticks. I unsheathe them carefully and stab the pinkish flesh across from me. As I pull it towards my mouth, I think only one thing: DON’T THROW UP!

I handle the nigiri with little difficulty. Its texture and taste are not familiar, but I easily acquire the taste. I have passed the test and the moment of truth is over. We make small talk for a short while longer and then leave together.

It wasn’t until later that I told her it was my first time. I was nervous and yet I executed flawlessly. She promises it will be better next time and that she will be my sushi guide from this point forward. For the first time since it begin I felt safe knowing there was someone else there with me…