World Class Persian Kebab
At 4 a.m on a random drunken night, you don’t really find a lot of places to run to sober up. There’s always the impersonal convenience store with their fluorescent lights and timely holiday music where you could get a hot dog or some cup noodles. I guess that would do the trick for any other night but it was the holidays and you’d want something more than ordinary. Something more personal than the hook and jab from the reality you try to deny that maybe she’s not that into you. As you go down a random street on your way home, you find yourself lured in by a faint lighted establishment at the corner of your next turn. The place wasn’t packed but it wasn’t empty either. It was busy with the constant in and out of waiters, drunken costumers and the random outbursts of laughter. And all you could do was slowly drive in to it’s lot and park the car.
Routinely, you go for what is familiar. Special Chelo Kebab with buttered rice and grilled onions and tomatoes. As you wait, good conversation never really fails to help pass the time. From Lomography to contrasting it to the local streetwear industry to even side commenting on how a whole culture could have so many opinions on a non existent love life.
You take a sip, clear your worn out throat from all the conversation and cigarettes burnt out. It almost does the trick. If only the food would’ve arrived sooner than how it normally does the moment would’ve been ace.
And finally it does. Like a favorite song long forgotten and rediscovering it again. The familiar taste, look and emotion it draws out. The sanity that it tries to rekindle in. The joy it brings. The night could only muse on as you zone out to what is in front of you. It was the only thing there that was real and actual as you disregard your company, the people at the next table, the rowdy Persian infant still awake at such an ungodly hour.
It was pleasant, just and sincere. But most of all, it was better – better than just the usual. Seems like it would be one of those experiences you’d look for again and again. At the back of your head it’ll stay and at times probably recur as a dream or as a place to seek comfort at.