I have a problem. The problem is that my friends have begun to call me Raymond. As in the autistic character played by Dustin Hoffman when he starred opposite Tom Cruise in his Oscar winning performance. Yip, I am Rain Man.
This terrible slight on my good character has come about over the most innocuous of issues: my enjoyment of a seafood deluxe noodle soup from the Khmer Noodle House (no bean sprouts, no spring onions). And the fact that I add a precise amount of chili sauce to every bite (nobody likes too much or too little). That it must be eaten noodles first, then noodles with meat, then meat on its own, then the broth (any other order would be madness). And the fact that I like to sit in the same seat every time (it’s a great seat). And that I have at least one of these soups every day of my life (I prefer the days when I have two).
What’s wrong with that I hear you ask? Nothing. Except your friends start to call you Raymond.
I used to travel from Sumner to Riccarton to get that soup. That’s just over an hour round trip. Sometimes I went twice a day. As I said, it’s a good soup. Once I walked in, saw my seat was taken and drove immediately home. It really is very good seat. Needless to say, though, I was pretty pleased when a mate found one in Woolston. That cut my travelling time in half, and obviously increased the number of days I could enjoy two soups. A classic win-win.
My girlfriend and I were in Wellington two weekends ago. I found a Khmer Noodle House. We went there each day. She was unhappy but I was understandably very, very pleased. I explained that fifty percent is a pass. She shook her head and texted my lawyer. Many of you will be aware that my lawyer and I are close and have shared many great times. He was the one who came up with the name Raymond. It’s one blemish on an otherwise impeccable friendship.
Now I’m in Auckland. I’ve been here for two weeks. I don’t mind telling you that I’m slowly losing my bloody mind. My modest waistband is shrinking. I cannot find a Khmer Noodle House anywhere. Today I was at my wits’ end. I travelled to Milford. Nothing. Takapuna. Nothing. I Googled and found two possibilities in the city. What did I find? Nothing. Then nothing. I got angry and rang my lawyer. He laughed and called me Raymond. I hung up and rang my girlfriend. She laughed but then spoke in slow and grave tones. She sensed the seriousness of the situation.
Rain Man is NOT happy. If you are in Auckland and you know of a place that might be close to what I need, please drop me a line. If you know what you are doing, feel free to open a noodle house. I need Formica tables, little or no English and a similar amount of customer service. It definitely can’t be busy (I don’t like crowds) and I must be able to choose my own chair. It will also need to have the perfect chili sauce. In a city as big as this, it shouldn’t be hard.
Where the fuck is Tom Cruise when you need him?
This terrible slight on my good character has come about over the most innocuous of issues: my enjoyment of a seafood deluxe noodle soup from the Khmer Noodle House (no bean sprouts, no spring onions). And the fact that I add a precise amount of chili sauce to every bite (nobody likes too much or too little). That it must be eaten noodles first, then noodles with meat, then meat on its own, then the broth (any other order would be madness). And the fact that I like to sit in the same seat every time (it’s a great seat). And that I have at least one of these soups every day of my life (I prefer the days when I have two).
What’s wrong with that I hear you ask? Nothing. Except your friends start to call you Raymond.
I used to travel from Sumner to Riccarton to get that soup. That’s just over an hour round trip. Sometimes I went twice a day. As I said, it’s a good soup. Once I walked in, saw my seat was taken and drove immediately home. It really is very good seat. Needless to say, though, I was pretty pleased when a mate found one in Woolston. That cut my travelling time in half, and obviously increased the number of days I could enjoy two soups. A classic win-win.
My girlfriend and I were in Wellington two weekends ago. I found a Khmer Noodle House. We went there each day. She was unhappy but I was understandably very, very pleased. I explained that fifty percent is a pass. She shook her head and texted my lawyer. Many of you will be aware that my lawyer and I are close and have shared many great times. He was the one who came up with the name Raymond. It’s one blemish on an otherwise impeccable friendship.
Now I’m in Auckland. I’ve been here for two weeks. I don’t mind telling you that I’m slowly losing my bloody mind. My modest waistband is shrinking. I cannot find a Khmer Noodle House anywhere. Today I was at my wits’ end. I travelled to Milford. Nothing. Takapuna. Nothing. I Googled and found two possibilities in the city. What did I find? Nothing. Then nothing. I got angry and rang my lawyer. He laughed and called me Raymond. I hung up and rang my girlfriend. She laughed but then spoke in slow and grave tones. She sensed the seriousness of the situation.
Rain Man is NOT happy. If you are in Auckland and you know of a place that might be close to what I need, please drop me a line. If you know what you are doing, feel free to open a noodle house. I need Formica tables, little or no English and a similar amount of customer service. It definitely can’t be busy (I don’t like crowds) and I must be able to choose my own chair. It will also need to have the perfect chili sauce. In a city as big as this, it shouldn’t be hard.
Where the fuck is Tom Cruise when you need him?
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