Only recently have I begun to truly realize that the King of Thai Noodle House near our house is really bizarre.
For those unfamiliar with the restaurant, King of Thai Noodle House is part of a chain of very casual and inexpensive noodle houses throughout San Francisco and, I believe, the East Bay. None of these restaurants have the same name and the subtle variations are responsible for confusion among friends; no one can ever be completely certain that they've eaten at the restaurant we refer to wrongly as King of Thai Noodles. There's a King of Thai Noodle House I, King of Thai Noodle House II, King of Thai Noodles House No. 5 (the one we eat at), King of Thai Noodle Cuisine, etc... When we ask if the menu is "purple and busy" and they agree, we realize we're all on the same page.
So why is the one near where we live so odd? Well, if you asked me before tonight I would say it had something to do with the fact that it seems to want to be a sports bar -- if by sports bar you meant, a thai restaurant decorated with soccer and football posters and a lone soccer ball lying behind a table.
Another weird thing: In one part of the restaurant, there is a sign that says "gifts for sale" and below this sign is some children's drawings and an empty picture frame. This area of the restaurant sort of creeps me out.
And then the kicker: There's a television in the restaurant too -- which, if King of Thai Noodle truly wanted to be a sports bar -- wouldn't be weird. But sports are never on. Instead, the staff plays any sort of show they'd want to watch in their own living rooms. Once they were watching Antiques Roadshow, another time the news. And tonight...
American Psycho.
And the volume was really loud. And it wasn't even the funny part (as says Ben) of the movie -- it was the part with the chainsaw. I wouldn't know what parts are funny since I refuse to watch the thing.
But, I know about the chainsaw.
So I'm eating my noodles, with my back turned to the television and I'm yelling at Ben to make some conversation so I don't think about what I'm hearing on the television. I repeatedly tell Ben to "ask me a question," figuring that the best distraction comes from me being puzzled. So Ben says "when does the next season of The Sopranos start?" And I'm like, "how the fuck do I know? Ask me something I could possibly answer!"
And then, on the television, I hear a cat meowing and Patrick Bateman is saying "here kitty kitty" and I've reached the point where I want to plug my ears but I don't because I don't want to be conspicuous and make the staff at the restaurant feel like they have to change the channel. Sure, I think they're completely insane for not realizing that they shouldn't be playing American Psycho at a restaurant, but I also realize that they're really invested in the movie -- the waitstaff and the cook are staring at the screen with their mouths dropped open.
I mean really, I don't want to be the bitch customer that makes an entire staff miss the last 15 minutes of the movie that they've been watching for two hours.
So instead of contemplating about when the new season of The Sopranos is going to start, I'm blocking out the sounds of a Patrick Bateman screaming about all the people he's murdered and watching our waitress flinch and partially cover her eyes.
And then, I can't help but think how much better the people at the other King of Thai Noodle House No. 2 have it:
"Yellow hanging lights in woven straw lampshades and purple walls covered with photographs add a warm, homey glow to the small room."
But our King of Thai Noodle House has the soccer ball.