I saw them yesterday, the first photo, in the back, a pile of mint on a plate with limes. Then again, another plate piled with mint. Then another plate piled with mint. This must be spring rolls.
No. It is bean sprouts, lime and mint piled on a separate plate and served with some kind of soup, probably pho, It looks very nice.
Did you know that pho is pronounced "fuh?"
Then why in the hell don't they spell it like fuh? Spelled pho there is not one single letter that matches its sound. It is totally wrong. Or, why not just spell it any random three letters that don't match their sounds, say, "ntg" and insist that means "fuh." Leave me alone. Get off my lawn.
The restaurant is small, they all are, and weird looking while their dishes are spectacular photographically. The mint got me. The spring rolls look okay. Their bowls of soup look fantastic. There it is. The mint again. With chicken pho. These photos are the best of the very large group that I viewed yesterday.
That looks so easy to eat.
There it is again, the mint on a plate with soup.
That looks so easy to eat.
This is the one artistic photo I saw yesterday on Yelp. And there is the mint again. Another hand reaching for some.
Wherever you are, this means he is satisfied.
Okay. I get it. Pho comes with mint and beansprouts and lime.
The combination plate with egg roll that looks so great on a plate looks like this in a carry out container.
Shrimp pho organized in separate packets.
Okay, that does it.
1) Chicken pho
2) egg rolls
3) spring rolls.
Here goes.
Outrageously, they charged a $7.50+ for delivery, triple everyone else, and $8.50+ tip and they ask for additional tip for the driver. My bill was a little over $35.00 their additions made it over $55.00 and they suggest that additional tip.
At 5:45 I call them and ask them what's up. The woman tells the driver picked up the order but something happened to his car. He is trying to fix it. Sorry.
This is the part where timing is critical and this is the part that failed. There is no way for this prepared food to get here a full hour late and still be okay. The problem is not being late. I don't care about that. I am not hungry. Rather, it is that the food cannot withstand the delay. I am paying a premium for shit-late food beyond its time-range. A delivery boy fixing his car doesn't fully appreciate that.
I waited quite awhile downstairs then gave up.
The young man knocked at my door instead of calling me to meet him downstairs. He was anxious and explaining that he tried to call. He showed me my number on his phone. His car failed and my phone service failed. I handed him $5.00 in my pocket and his abused disposition changed instantly. He smiled broadly. He suddenly became bouncy and joyous, a 100% instant change. He was expecting angry white guy. I failed to fulfill his vision. I failed to comport.
Imagine the eighteen-year-old Asian guy who has his first car. He finally has his freedom and he must pay for it. He must learn about cars. Mechanics. Insurance. Inspections. License. He is learning about working for the things that he wants, but his car is a piece of poo and now he is learning the things he depends on mess him up. The thing that he is working for messes him up. For an American male there are a thousand things to learn about cars and this boy is at the very beginning of all that. He will be the man who changes your tire on the highway. If you could see what he did to correct the convergence of unfortunate events, how he struggled to contact me, how he struggled to enter the property, what he did to reduce his delay, how he dealt with failed communication, then we'd be a lot more sympathetic to his plight. And if you can see the joy on a lad's expression his whole change of positive energy, the very real happiness at realizing that I am not the typical asshole. He was expecting it. But he didn't get it. What joy! He is thinking, the man understands what it is being a boy.
I have two brothers and a mechanically inclined father. Tools from basement to attic from garage to sheds. I know about young males and cars. Everything that I know I gained through osmosis. The males in my family could strip your car to a pile of bolts in two hours flat. American men know a lot about cars.
I told my younger brother that our father told me to hand him a wrench. "Gimme the 14/17th," but I hand him the 13/18th instead and I go "Sorry!" Then hand him the 7/15th and my brother doubled over laughing.
"Why are you laughing? What is so g.d. funny?"
"Bobby, those numbers don't exist in the world of wrenches, metric or empire. Of all the numbers you managed three fractions that don't exist. You just saying those arbitrary numbers and applying them to wrenches cracks me up. That's funny shit right there."
That's what the Asian guy has yet to learn. A thousand things like that leaning on his obsession to own a car, to grow into manhood, to steadily work, to support a family. He is proving himself to himself. And the boy jumped out of his skin, crossed cultural lines, leaped generational divide, right in front of me, he hopped up and down, just because I wasn't an asshole.
I am not the slightest bit hungry. But I will now force-feed myself.
Why?
I have dropped suddenly from 185 lbs. to 147 lbs. That is my homeostasis weight from age twenty to age sixty-three when kidney failure occurred. I must stop this sudden descent and a large daily milkshake isn't cutting it. I must eat even if I don't want to. Just to keep even weight. I am going to keep on this Thai food continuously until it is gone.
This is a large container. Much thicker than appears. 
This chicken and noodles goes into the broth along with the herbs, sprouts, lime and jalapeño. This is quite a lot of chicken.
I added four Coca-Colas to the order. I did not know three would be larger than normal. I have never seen these taller containers.
I got so far as the egg rolls and pooped out. See? Where the fork is. My stomach extends from my body. I look ridiculous when I am full and my shirt is off. The influx lump moves comfortably through empty space. As it moves I will add more to it. Until this whole pile is consumed. And I will keep doing this until my weight stabilizes where it is at right now.
It's war.
It's on.
Like Donkey Kong.
[That pile of green stuff is not regular mint. It's something else similar. Maybe it's a mint/spearmint/peppermint thing. The leaves are larger than regular mint and they don't have the surface textured pattern.]
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