Sushi Bar (English)

The Asian waitress was using all of her "professional" acumen to keep her cool, but you could see that she took Carlos' innocent comment to heart. It was obvious that she was not going to forget this incident any time soon. Normally Carlos is pretty benign on Wednesdays, and he really did not mean to be offensive, but half of the Sapporo the waitress had poured into his glass had foamed, so Carlos collected all of his "El-Salvadorian tact" and flippantly noted, "When you pour a beer, you have to tilt the glass, querida!".

I let my gaze wander from the fuming waitress to the street. It was hot outside. Tbilisi can get really hot too, but the heat is much more fierce here. The humid air clings to the body, suffocating to the extent of dizziness. People tend to rush to air-conditioned facilities; especially the kind where they serve cold beer with a touch of warm, Eastern hospitality. If you behave, you may even get some Sushi and the opportunity to relax in peace after a hard day's work. Err... that is, unless Carlos picks a fight with a waitress.

While Carlos was bellyaching about the foamy beer, I scanned the restaurant with the special sense of boredom that accompanies weekday evenings. They make decent Sushi at Spices on Wisconsin Avenue. The place is reasonably clean and nice too. The only thing is that it gets really crowded on the weekends. When it does, it feels like a bees' nest, with the droning mix of noises hanging in the air. At times like that, you can forget about peace and relaxation and start looking for Advil. Carlos and I are experienced customers and always come during week days. After all, the chef wraps tuna in rice the same way, any day of the week.

I suddenly caught sight of a girl sitting alone at the far end of the room. She had an incredibly tasteless, red T-shirt on. Well, to be fair, "incredibly" may be a little bit of exaggeration. It was a regular, cheap T. It's not like she was gonna walk the catwalk in Paris in that shirt. The color was annoying the crap out of me though. She was sitting with her back to me, and the red tint of the shirt was bearing down on me like a poorly-painted banner. God, what does this color look like...

...Chavchavadze Avenue, #1, Tbilisi State University. Freshman year. Red mobile store on the street corner with a tastelessly painted "Coca-Cola" sign on one side, selling single cigarettes for poor students who could not afford an entire pack. Across the street sat an open cafe where you could buy cheese bread for 1 Lari (50 cents) and vodka Gomi for double that. Three buddies at a table, endless conversations about the meaning of life, lengthy toasts, love of life and the carelessness that only college students can muster...

Sushi that had been craved for the better part of the afternoon, after a missed lunch that there was no time for, suddenly lost all of its appeal. I left some money on the table, nodded to a surprised Carlos and rushed out of Spices without saying a word.

Sushi is great...much better than a cheap cheese bread for 1 Lari. Healthier too. Plus, there are many more fans of Sake than there are people who even know about vodka Gomi, but the clouds are suddenly gathering above Wisconsin Avenue, and I won't wait for Sushi today.