Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

People who are afraid of hot weather, don't eat Pho in August.

Heat waves blur upward from the white plastic tables in front of my secret Pho joint as the sweat droplets form tiny middle fingers coming down my face.

I brush past begging homeless men and cars trying to kill me---speeding up from the cool depths of a nearby parking garage. My uncrowded lunch mecca is a solid fuck-you to the worst bar in DC across the street, which faces my ass as I open the bar-clad door. I have one thing on my mind: the big-as-your-head bowl of near-boiling pork fat, tangy vegetables, beef strips and stringy noodles waiting for me in the back.

At the counter, I feel like I'm in Da Nang, 1967. I imagine carrying on a Full Metal Jacket-style conversation while I order my steaming southeast-Asian soup on a ball-sweat hot day in your nation's capital:
Me: What do I get for ten dollars?
Her: Every t'ing you wan'.
Me: Everything?
Her: ... Every t'ing.
SNAP OUT OF IT.

"I'll have the Special Pho with a Dr. Pepper, please."

Easy. Five minutes, done. I sit down in front of various and sundry hot sauces while the dust-coated AC and back-up fan blow straight into my face. There are three people in the place but since we're all 'in the know', we're the few, the proud: the summertime Pho-eaters. A rare breed. A breed that loves the heat of sun and slickness of humidity and will order hot soup in all four seasons.

The liquid burn of the hot slurry of Pho soon makes its way down my gullet, making me quickly forget that my only breakfast was vending machine coffee and lukewarm water from the bottle on my moving bicycle. For 35 minutes of my work day, I am truly happy.

What'll happen when the US is a nation of 300 million winter lovers?---folks who start griping at the first drop of sweat. My friend, sweating FEELS GOOD. That's what it's meant to do.

Drink up summer now because in a few months we're all gonna be two clicks from calling 1-800-SUICIDE when Old Man Winter comes a-knocking.
Comments:
I love Pho, so I liked that part of your post. But, the worst bar in DC is Smith Point. I thought we've been through that.
 
Dig your blogity blog. I found it through Faye.

I'm a longtime veggie myself, and thought your bit about the peppered bacon was interesting. I like the smell of bacon and everything, but I still don't think I'd want to eat it.
 
LO Kid,

You've probably never smelled sizzling peppered bacon. If you had, you wouldn't be veg any longer.
 
I thought the worst bar was the Velvet Lounge. Wait. How are we defining worst? That might be the Felix Lounge. When I was a little girl my father taught me that sweating was good: it meant your body was working properly and doing what it was supposed to do.
 
your blogs are getting better and better.
 
I LOVE pho, and I probably eat it from Pho 75 in Arlington about 3 times a week. However, when that heat wave hit, I just couldn't do it. I went back last week for more...and I didn't feel anything. Maybe I'll try your secret place to add some flair to my pho.....Thanks!
 
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