The Last Shot

I've kinda been missing ethnic food lately, and so was excited to go out for Indian food on Saturday night. The first-choice restaurant was too crowded, so we went to a different Indian place. As far as I know there are no Indian restaurants in northern Michigan; but if there were, they would look like this place. It had this safari-scene mural of lions and tigers and zebras clawing each other and bleeding. And plastic place mats that sort of stuck to the plastic table cloths. The food wasn't great, but it was fine, and not only did they have naan but they also had... (drumroll)... NAAN CON QUESO! The Spanish people I was with didn't understand why I thought naan con queso was funny. Anyway, about halfway through dinner this very, very drunk man came into the restaurant and sat down. The waitress brought him a bottle of wine, which seemed to me like the worst idea ever, but in the end it didn't really matter because the wine didn't get drunk. He was sitting at the table across from us, facing me, and I thought I saw him lean down to reach for something, but then he just stayed down. And then he started snoring. He snored for a while before the waitress came over and tried unsuccessfully to wake him up. So a few minutes later a man emerged from the back of the restaurant and tried to wake him up by shaking him and nearly lifting him out of the chair. Still no response. If it weren't for the snoring I would have wondered if maybe he was dead. The people I was with kept suggesting and offering to call an ambulance, but the restaurant staff didn't seem interested in that option. I'm not sure if they wanted to just leave him on the street or what; not sure if an ambulance would even come for a passed-out drunk guy. He was still comatose when we left the restaurant.

Speaking of things that are less than uplifting, I saw Brokeback Mountain today (no foreign-language films for me for a while). So good; so, so sad.