Friday Feast

I leaned back on my office chair and took a deep breath. It was finally time for my break. With a smile, I lowered my laptop screen, grabbed my bag, and excitedly left the office for a late evening lunch.

Ah, Friday payday, the best day of the month. This was the one day the corporate gods smiled upon me and gave me spare change for my two-week-long efforts. On this day, I could finally indulge in my simple whims, before being chased down by my financial responsibilities. Let me have my one-day millionaire day; I would deal with real life tomorrow.

The street lamps were aglow when I stepped out of the building, but my eyes wandered to the even brighter row of tents across the street. I grinned and moved towards it.

It was the nightly food market, which had a wide selection of dishes from all over the world. It was the perfect place to indulge my kingly appetite, and I salivated over the possibilities. Would I get chicken pesto pasta this time? Or perhaps some mee goreng? What about isaw, betamax, and adidas? Hell, why not just get everything and enjoy? I snickered to myself as I crossed the street and slipped among the other people invited to this celebration of flavors.

The place was packed with people, probably because of payday too. I couldn’t see an empty table, and most of the stalls had long lines of customers. Shrugging, I decided to go for a look-see, even though I had a feeling that I would probably default to my favorites anyway.

I walked around the stalls, enjoying the scent of food in the air. Among the foodie delights were roasted duck, their brown skins shining in the gleam of the lamps; homemade burgers fresh off the grill and served with fresh greens and sliced tomatoes; fragrant dripping meats at the shawarma stand; fresh coconut water served ice cold; and even gelato, not-too-sweet yet bursting of flavors like bubblegum, berry blast, and, interestingly, “He’s Not Into You.”

Chuckling over these, I hovered over to my favorite stand, the only one that served baby back ribs and mashed potato. I stared at their selection, and considered the roast beef swimming in gravy or even the herbed chicken served with buttered vegetables. But no, I was here for my baby back ribs and mashed potato, so I would get my baby back ribs and mashed potato.

I quickly got in line, which was short enough and moved pretty fast. When it was my turn, I didn’t even have to say a word. The old lady at the stand nodded at me and got my usual order ready, while I took out some cash and handed it to her once she came back with my box and my icy can of diet cola. The lunch I held in my hand made me feel happy, powerful even. This, this is what paydays are made for.

Seeing the food market full to the brim, I took a turn to the nearby park. It was pretty dark, but I knew exactly where to go. A few steps later, I found my little bench by the street lamp with a yellow glow. Looking around quickly, I saw that this space, this park, this evening was mine, and mine alone. I sat down, grinning.

With a deep breath, I ceremoniously placed my soda on the bench, placed a handkerchief on my lap, and slowly opened the box. The scent of barbecue glaze filled the air as I marveled at my little meal, and I smiled widely. I looked down to see my ribs doused with delicious sweet-savory sauce next to a mound of steaming white rice and melt-in-your-mouth mashed potato topped with hot gravy.

I reached for my can, wiped the top off with a corner of my hanky, and pulled the tab. I listened eagerly to its little sigh as bubbles filled its rim, and took a measured, unhurried gulp.

I licked my lips, smiled to myself, and enjoyed my lunch at midnight.

Ah, Friday payday, the best day of the month.

–
First written February 2, 2018.
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