Another Lisa Story

Riding on the tales of Italy-story below, here's another.

So, Ryan came to visit a few weeks ago, and Lisa was also here because she fell in love with my flatmate via MSN conversations. As one does.

She takes a crazy bus full of small children through the chunnel, carrying a box of French pastries the whole way. They got a little squished, but made it through in very good condition overall.

So, the scene is a little Shakespearean, and has nothing to do witht he rest of this story, but here it is:
--Lisa likes my flatmate
--My flatmate used to like me
--But seems to be into Lisa
--My flatmate doesn't think I know Lisa likes him
--And we intend to keep it that way

Also:
Lisa met an Italian dude at an airport on a different trip than the one I took with her. She fell asleep and he covered her with his jacket. He didn't want to hit on her, just to work on his English. He lives in London, works as a pastry chef in a sushi restaurant, and wants to hang out.

And that is how, moments after arriving in London, Lisa's getting us ready to go have free coffee and desserts with her Italian airport soulmate. I eat a sweet potato first, though, because I was hungry. That's not important to the story, but sweet potatoes are easy to prepare and full of vision-saving vitamin A. KT, pay attention.

We leave the pastries--which were beautiful--and start walking to the sushi place. It's kind of hard to find, but we get there and it's nice. It's also closed, and the staff is just cleaning up/hanging out, while the Italian was waiting for us to show up. The Italian guy, his Filipino/Italian/mystery boss, and some other employees of the sushi place were there. We awkwardly sit down and have free drinks and chat. The Boss loves chatting. He is basically someone's overly jovial Dad as the boy waits around for the girl before going to the movies in 1965. Everyone in the room speaks some English, but it's the native tongue for only 3 people, so there's some Telephoning going on.

The coworkers offer to make some sweet potato crisps, and confusion ensues where they think I don't like sweet potato, when really I do like it, in fact I just had one. They make regular potato crisps, but that was good too. And then the Italian guy has to show off as well, so he disappears to the kitchen, leaving us with Dad.

Dad wants to show us the samuri armour hanging in the restaurant, and tells us all about the samuri, and gradually shifts his story from the suit being ::the:: armour worn by the last samurai himself, to the type of armour worn at that time, to a reproduction of that style. Ok dude.

The Italian returns, makes a crack about the japanese, and gets a death glare from Dad. But he also had pastries which were very, very beautiful. Also, tasty. He basically won Lisa over with the good, free dessert. Lisa's ready to follow wherever the Sushi staff wants to go next, and I am always ready to follow Lisa, and Ryan's just happy to be here.

As the most London-knowledgable member of our party, I'm trying to figure out where we're going. 'The bar' is as much as I'm told. Ohkay.

Turns out the one they want is closed, but Trader Vic's in the Hilton is open. I should point out that we are wearing jeans and hoodies, and the doorman is in tails and a top hat. Oh well. It's also a tiki bar which dresses its staff in cheongsams, decorates the walls with giant shells and fish nets thrown whimiscally about the walls and ceiling, serves Grog, fruity umbrella drinks, and a mystery drink in a ceramic vat embellished with mermaids and seashells. Dad chats to the waitress in tagalog. Of course he does.

Somehow Dad is talking about his wife, and also his girlfriend, and also his partner. He had a kid with someone as well. It's hard to keep track--are there actually 3 love interest here, or does he refer to the same one with 3 titles? He stole the show. He ran right off with it and didn't look back.

Everyone gets a straw and shares from the vat. Dad expresses his concern to the waitress, pointing to one of his sushi chefs 'But he has AIDS...' and laughing uproariously. I sit next to Dad, and he wants to talk about politics, art, restauranting, the world, while holding my upper arm and emphasising really good points with a pat. He was just really into being the center of attention. And I like grog.

We close the bar after a burly top hat-wearing dude suggests that it's time to pay the bill. Dad kisses everyone; Italian kisses everyone.

I like remembering that night because it's pretty much prototypical of any outing with Lisa. She wants to hang out with someone she met under unusual circumstances; she obtains free food and drink; end up, underdressed, somewhere strange; and have to walk home for a long distance.