Sushi Samba

Last night was awesome. I met my friend - an Angelina Jolie Lookalike, ("AJL") with whom I was supposed to go to a ball. We bailed on the ball, for various reasons. In order to not allow our night to be lost, AJL and I went to Sushi Samba for dinner.

When we got there, she approached the Maitre D' and asked what the wait was. She was politely told "three hours for a table, 45 minutes for the sushi bar." We left our name for the sushi bar, and took a seat in the lounge. It's not quite clear how we got a seat, since the bar area was standing room only, but who cares?

We started the evening off with empty stomaches and mojitos. A good combination to start honest conversation going strong.

We touched on our careers, Napoleon Hill, heartbreak and breaking hearts, how everyone else looked, and how a 45 minute wait turned into an hour and a half. At one point she looked into the distance and said "Nice Melons" and then cocked an eyebrow - when I gave her a quizzical look back, she replied "I'm from Miami - we look..." I laughed.

She got up and pestered the Maitre D' after our first hour. She reported that her conversation went something like this:

"We're sitting over there."
"That's fine, we know how to find you."
"Yeah, but you didn't even see where I pointed."
"Yes, but we know what you look like."

I thought that was a little bizzare. On her second trip up, she discovered that they write down what you're wearing. When I asked AJL if they'd written down "devastatingly handsome guy and his Angelina Jolie looking sidekick" she said that no, they'd written "White Jacket and Black Jacket." I was deflated.

A few minutes after she got back, we took our seats at the sushi bar. We ordered some rolls and some straight sushi. They had this amazing roll with tuna and tempura and some sauce of some sort. Really very good. The sushi was a touch disappointing to me, overly wasabi'd.

At some point in the evening, I started to feel a bit loopy. Maybe it's that I'm run down from too much work, maybe it was the mojitos, maybe it was this persistent cough, I have no idea. I blamed AJL.

"You slipped me roofies in my mojito, didn't you." [She didn't actually slip him roofies, since he remembers the evening - ED]
"No."
"No? It's not a roofie colada?"
"No." She smiled gently, like I was a dumb child.
"Not a Margaroofie?" She smiled bigger.
"Roofie and tonic? Roofie on the rocks?" I was getting louder, and she was laughing at, I mean with, me.
"Roofie and soda? Tequila Sunroofie?"
"Jonathan" she scolded "I did not slip you roofies."
"Sure you didn't. Long Island Iced Roofie?" She giggled.

I gave up. The check materialized, was paid, and we left into the cold evening air. I thanked her for the evening. I was having a tiny bit of trouble remembering things. "Of course I'm having trouble walking" I admonished her. "You slipped me roofies." That drew some entertained looks, but, true to form, most of the New Yorkers just ignored the zany guy and his Angelina Jolie Lookalike.

I started coughing again around West Fourth and Sixth. She smiled at me, put me in a cab, and sent me home. When I made it home, I fiddled around a little, and then went promptly to sleep.

Posted by Swerdloff at March 07, 2004 07:52 PM