Chinatown Calculation

"It was a dark and stormy night...."

Sounds like a cliche beginning to a scary Halloween story doesn't it? Well you are wrong because it is not a horror story and it is not a cliche because it really was a dark and stormy night.

I was in Halifax on business many, many years ago and I had arrived very tired and very late and very hungry. I was working for myself at that time and didn't have an expense account so I had to scrounge around for a cheap motel where I could crash for the night and hopefully get a bite to eat.

After checking in to a flea bag motel with no dining room or other amenities to speak of, I asked the charming night clerk where I might get a late night meal. He recommended the local Chinese takeout joint which was just a few blocks away - at this late hour it sounded perfect.

I ordered the super combo platter to go and was assured that everything I needed was in the bag so off I went back to my room to enjoy a late night feast. I unpacked all the little white cardboard boxes and was almost drooling from the smell of sweet and sour chicken balls, fried rice and juicy spare ribs swimming in sauce. I covered everything in plum sauce and extra soya sauce - ready to enjoy this messy, sloppy delight. I was about to commence when I reached into the bag for some cutlery and found.... nothing.

I ripped the bag open and tore open the little bundle of napkins - surely there was something here - a knife, a spoon - a chopstick!? But no. I stared at the delicious morsels swimming in sweet and sour sauce, the fried rice smothered in soya sauce, the chop suey... and started to panic. I called the front desk but no luck, flea bag hotels do not stock extra cutlery for unfortunate guests. What to do...

I was able to snare a few chicken balls with my fingers and the egg rolls were no problem but what about the rice and the noodles? I had to have it all! I looked around the room, in the bathroom, in the night stand.... and then I spied my suitcase. But what were the chances that I had packed some utensils before leaving on my road trip - pretty slim I was afraid. In desperation I opened my shaving kit and there it was.... my salvation - a shiny, new plastic shoe horn. A quick Chinatown calculation told me that my problems were over.

I am not ashamed to admit I ate every bite and never did a meal taste so good. I may have choked a few times as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and burst out laughing, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. I still love Chinese food but after my experience on that dark and stormy night I will never be able to enjoy it without a strange association with shoes - and now neither will you. But at least you can be thankful that I didn't title this story "Shoe Horn of Plenty" or even worse - "Chop Shoey".