As close as we'll come to a day off.
Closed for lunch, open at 3:00 for dinner.
The customers, as to be expected, the lost and straggling souls who couldn't wrangle an invite anywhere for Easter.
I've worn my blue-fur bunny ears, slight levity, the book is grim. I propose a crucifixion, re-enactment of The Passion to make the Filipino kitchen feel more at home, but there's a lack of volunteers. The dishwasher, Billy, doesn't want to be crucified. He's a bad Catholic.
The last table in at 7:30, reservation, last table served at 8:00. The owner leaves at 8:00. And then it's time to wait.
Tables linger. A walk-in at 8:45, get the order, put it in, warn them we're closing...
9:00. The expeditor and hostess leave. 4 tables left in restaurant.
9:10. G leaves, all fucked up.
9:15. A leaves, patching things up with girlfriend.
9:30. Z leaves with the kitchen, Billy and Jimmy.
Leaving me and M. Another 45 minutes before we can leave as well. It's the long Good Friday. I hope, against odds, the Karma I've built up hasn't been squandered.