A lunch date had been made for an early 11:45 time to (a) guarantee a nearby parking spot and (b) make sure a booth was available. It’s what is called due diligence.

The clock ticks. Now it’s noon. And then 12:15. I reluctantly order at 12:30, for I can feel critical looks from waitress and waiting patrons eyeing a single in a booth. By the time the last shrimp tempura has been consumed, irritation has given way to concern. There are reasons for being late, but a complete no-show could mean something ominous. It can’t be good. [And no, I didn’t have my dumbPhone. Didn’t have a telephone number to call, anyway.]

Since I was out and about, I decided to get a carwash after the wasted lunch hour. Something had to be cleansed. Returning home, I revved up my computer to find out what had happened. Since the reason for the missed luncheon date could’ve been unavoidable, I opened my inquiry with a simple (but capped), “WOT HAPPENED?” Then commenced to write a concise report of the agenda that was to have been discussed; trying hard to hide disappointment, while expressing hope that nothing untoward had caused the absence.

A reply was not long in arriving: “You switched the lunch to next Wednesday, don’t you remember?!”

Pie in the face? Can’t find a place to hide? Feeling absolutely stupid? How can anyone postpone a meeting and then show up on the cancelled day and hour? I ask you again, how?

If you think the embarrassment ended there, you’re wrong. I went to bed that night, halfway between piqued and nettled, closer to beset. I awoke Friday morning, maybe not exactly rejuvenated, but at least prepared to meet a new day semi-refreshed. That’s when it dawned on me: I guess I was so upset by the previous day’s misadventure, I forgot to take a shower!!! Believe me, folks, that’s the gawdawfultruth! For the first time since I can’t remember, I had gone to bed without cleansing mine bod!

= * =

Why does CR2S have a habit of making fun (of oneself)? Ordinarily any sane person goes to great lengths to look good, appear cool, impress. Cockadoodledoo and all that jazz. It has to be more than a desire to give readers a chuckle or two. Let’s make an effort to recover equilibrium and save some face.

Honda has been running a series of television ads entitled “Random Acts of Kindness” in which employees do exactly that. Examples include paying the grocery bill of a surprised market shopper; showing up unannounced to help a family move. In another ad promo, a staffer stops at a yard sale and offers a shocked housewife $2,000 to buy her entire display. Dumbfounded and near tears she asks, “Are you kidding?” The Helpful Honda Lady replies “Yes” and hands over the cash to the grateful seller. CR2S Question: Shouldn’t the answer be “No”?

The latest Malaysia Airlines tragedy points out two facts of life: You know and you never know. We’re all so helpless because the acts of others are beyond our control. Didn’t you cringe when hearing reports of looting and despoiling dead bodies at the crash site? In direct contrast, witness Japanese soccer fans in Brazil without fanfare quietly cleaning up the trash and debris in their section of the stadium – after a loss, no less.

It’s of no consequence, but I can’t get over the furor resulting from LaBron James’ decision to play for the Cleveland Cavaliers. I mean, geez, basketball? Completely overlooked by Sports Illustrated writers and ESPN reporters was his specificity: “I’m returning home to Northeast Ohio!” he proudly proclaimed. As if there has to be a distinction from SW, SE or NW. [When I decide to relocate, it will be to Southwest East Ellay, in case anyone is interested.]

For the thoughtful who are concerned about the physical and mental well-being of CR2S, an updated report: I wound up purchasing a pair of (costly) glasses. Don’t tell my Optho, but reading agate type is still a chore, even with the new specs. But they look kinda cool, if I do say so myself. And I can get 15% off if I order another one (within thirty days.)

As far as the sudden onset of the mysterious Burnt Tongue Syndrome goes, it’s still a mystery. I looked up the meaning of “syndrome,” just for kicks. Sure enuf, it’s just a fancy word that sounds better than pathology, congenital defect or malady. Hey, all it means is illness, fercryinoutloud! In my case, not a heck of a lot to be concerned about (it is claimed). So what it boils down to is, if you see a Jappo guy sticking his tongue out every now and again, in tandem with squinty eyes, it’ll not be Chicken Little wondering when the sky is falling; it will be I.

W.T. Wimpy Hiroto can be reached at williamhiroto@att.net. Opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of The Rafu Shimpo.


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