After venturing to the burbs of Virginia (not as scary now that it's a blue state) last weekend for a haircut, I made a spur-the-moment decision to stop at a favorite sushi place of mine which I haven't visited in ages, Akasaka. They offer a nicer-than-most selection of veggie sushi, including shitake mushroom, oshinko, plum paste, and gourd, in addition to the regulars like avocado, asparagus, and cucumber. (Despite the fact that a handful of online reviewers note that the quality has suffered after a change in management, the food and service during my visit were good as ever.)
This is not, however, a restaurant review. It is more of a clientele review.
So there I sit, enjoying my boiled spinach and making my best effort to look deeply absorbed in my Washington Post Sunday magazine (and not like a tragic woman out for lunch alone), when I cannot help but overhear the conversation of a group of three at a table nearby.
One woman is sharing her apparently deep knowledge of kobe beef with her two companions. "The cows are fed beer!" she said. Her friends leaned in closer. "Really? Beer?" "Oh yes!" she responded. "And they are massaged! They get regular massages! Can you even believe it?" The others nearly could not contain their astonishment at this news, at which point they began waxing poetic about the unimaginable privilege of these cows, to live in such splendid luxury! "Well, la-dee-da!" one said. "That sure must be the life! Massages and beer!" her friend added. Lots of "oohs" and "ahs" and sighs of envy followed.
It was all I could do not to leap from my seat to point out the ludicrousness of what they were saying, which somehow seemed to be entirely lost on them. I wanted to turn and say, "Okay, just to make sure I've got this right. Say someone promised you that you'd get a ready supply of free beer. Excited? Great. Now, you will also have regular massages! Yes I'm totally serious! (Nevermind the fact that you're getting such massages because you've been confined to a crate since you were one week old and this is a substitution for regular muscle stimulation.) But I mean, come on! Didn't you hear the part about the massage?! Oh, and I know you're a social animal and instinctively you want to be in a herd, but total isolation from others will give you lots of time to think, you know? Quality private time. Alright, are you in? Oh, there's just one more thing I forgot. You will be slaughtered and fed to wealthy businessmen once you've reached the ripe old age of three."
"So, interested?"
