Life At Slow-Mo

The sun was still high on that spring afternoon sky. The weather was beautiful. Our hotel was less than a mile away from the training center. We have spent the whole day inside a windowless room, and some fresh Long Island air combined with walking would do us good, so we thought.

As we walked westward down Motor Parkway, the thought of dinner came to mind. We had some assignments to do that night for the next day. To save time, we chose to have an early dinner at any restaurant we might come across on our walk instead of going back to the hotel and freshen up before getting dinner.

“How about that place?” I pointed to a low building with large glass windows in front. The signs above the door said it was a Chinese restaurant. However there was no car parked outside and the place seemed deserted. Since the prospect of eating Asian food after several nights of Applebee’s was too tempting, we decided to try our luck.

I pushed the door, expecting to see tiny lanterns hanging from the ceiling, wooden panels on the walls, tables covered in red linen with porcelain eating utensils arranged neatly, a guy of East Asian descent behind the counter chatting with the cooks in the kitchen, and some customers digging into their kung pao chicken and rice meals at the tables. Instead, the place was colorless, almost barren except for a few tables and chairs and a large counter at the back. There was no customers inside. In lieu of food, there were backpacks in the glass display at the counter. Behind the counter and in the kitchen, we only saw men with Middle Eastern appearance.

I stopped dead on my track. This couldn’t be a Chinese restaurant, I told myself. Was there another door that I should enter? I took several steps back, look to the left and right, but it was the only door. The men were giving me a strange look with nobody saying anything. They seemed surprised, as though they were not expecting anyone to show up. Could this be a covert operation of some foreign military, masquerading as an East Asian eatery?

We were still standing at the door awkwardly, not sure what we should do.
“Should we find another place?” I asked my companions.
“We’re here already. Might as well ask.” said one of them.
He’s right. We had nothing to lose. If the answer was negative, we could just apologize and leave. It’s not like we were trespassing, nor like they had attack dogs that would chase us if we said anything wrong.
“Is this the Chinese restaurant?” I asked them.
“Yeah, come on in!” said one of the men warmly, gesturing us to come to the counter.

He showed us the menu. All the items in there were Chinese cooking, and nothing else. He took our orders and told us to wait. As we sat at a table, we spoke in low voices among ourselves.
“I can’t believe this is actually a Chinese restaurant.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t look like one.”
“Maybe they’re just opening.”
“Where are the bouquets?”
“I mean soft opening.”
“I wonder if the food is good.”
“I hope it is. I’m hungry.”

Then the entrees came. Surprisingly, they were good! There was no doubt, somebody back there knew how to cook! Now that we were assured that the place was truly a restaurant, we were relaxed. We ate leisurely, finishing the food to the last morsel. We paid, and continued our walk to the hotel.

I learned that day that looks can be deceiving. Because we have preconceived notion about how something – or someone – should look and behave, we may feel uncomfortable when the reality does not fit that picture. We risk missing out on the true value of the person or the thing if we do not take steps to test our bias against the facts.

Sometimes it is good to give benefit of the doubt. It could be to a dubious restaurant, or to someone whose experience and expertise we are not sure of. If we are right to doubt them, then it won’t be a surprise. But if we are wrong, it would be a wonderful, eye opening experience.

Featured photo: Afternoon on Motor Parkway, Long Island. Photo by Stephen Siregar (2010). All Rights Reserved. Do Not Use Without Permission.