A very suitable ending, or, Something food related, or, the Last Supper, or, The whole trip epitomized in four hours

De(bbie).

Hi(ro).

Jo(e).

Ro(se).

Vi(nce).

This night was the last time we would all go out together in New York. It was a trip of many extremes; when the first day ended it seemed like we had seen so much, and this night it felt like we had seen nothing. This night was also important for another reason: we were going to eat Korean fried chicken at Bon Chon. This dish had been built up the duration of our trip until it acquired the mythical status it held prior to our meal. The first night we hung out with Jen when we were at Hi-Fi, she expounded the dish. This arose while I was in the process of praising Gray's Papaya as the perfect late night food, when Jen interrupted and in a low voice explained a heavenly meat morsel that was deep fried to a light crisp, with a salty and spicy kick to it. This modest explanation does not do justice what her words did to our stomachs. Her explanation caused pools of saliva to form at our feet...after which, she said that her praises should be taken with a degree of skepticism because she had been craving fried chicken for weeks, and she herself had only heard of this chicken from her roommate.

The damage had been done. We were destined to go.

Joe and I attempted to go night after night but never had the motivation to overcome obstacles like crossing town, tiredness, or acceptance of places which were deemed "good enough". However, with the combined motivation of six individuals (the five plus Jen), we came together like Voltron and headed for Koreatown.

The restaurant had an upscale lounge feel to it. Three cute waitresses wore clothing completely unsuitable for their tasks of serving patrons on low tables (short skirts and low cut tops), walking around the restaurant (high heels), or even standing for long periods of time (heels again). In other words, the males could not stop looking at them. We were seated at one of those low tables, and then proceeded to debate the intricacies of splitting a large order of chicken among six people, two of whom were not particularly hungry. Joe and I wanted a few drinks, so we ordered a large lychee soju and a medium plain soju. Both came in funny sake carafes which were embedded in a bowl of shaved ice.

Stylish.

The chicken arrived on a platter accompanied with pickled radishes and salad. That was moderately surprising. Some chicken pieces were typical buffalo wing size while others were full size chicken pieces. That was as confusing as it was impressive. However, the most amazing yet predictable thing came at first bite: the Korean spicy chicken, which had been talked about onto a high pedestal with seemingly unrealistic expectations of greatness, was then immediately thrust onto a much higher pedestal, one which was very real and fathomable.

Mouthgasm.

We all toasted several times to the end of this trip. As a group, we were separating the next day. Alcohol, while sometimes a great tormentor, is also the greatest of uniters. When was the last time you had a group hug? And the last time you raised you glass with friends? I thought so. With glasses clinking in unison, the mindset changed from here to home.

Thanks for reading - DeHiJoRoVi.