Friday, October 11, 2019

Arrivederci Seinfeld; Ciao Taichung

         My wife went downstairs to bring my young student to her mother and disappeared, something she has done before so I wasn’t concerned. I waited. It was time for lunch. The TV was on and I grabbed the white remote to see what was on Netflix cable. I watched the tail end of a “Two Comedians in a Car Getting Coffee”, episode six in season eleven; Jamie Foxx was with the host, Jerry Seinfeld. Episode seven, with Sebastian Maniscalco, then came on with the two comedians on 1959 Lambretta II scooters. Sebastian and Jerry took us on a tour  riding around Greenwich Village to Pasticceria Rocco, Faicco's Italian Specialties, Grom Gelato, and Murray's Cheese Shop. 
             It wasn’t very funny listening to millionaires killing time for the amusement of a darling public; I am not one of them. I am not impressed with pricey private transportation or the common streets of Manhattan; I am after all, a New Yorker. I’ve seen better Italian pastry and delicatessen shops than those, for a paisan’s price, and I have seen a million scooters in Taiwan still riding with the reason of inexpensive transportation in post- World War II Italy. Forgetaboutit! I have become savvy in Taichung to assemble my own Primo hero. Inspiration alone was the show to me. Wait a second, I said to myself, I have all the ingredients I need right here in our refrigerator!  Even a loaf of cheesy bread, the spoils from my wife’s nephew’s out-of-business restaurant.
          When she finally returned, I mentioned the show, still in progress, that it might be interesting to her, too, but she had other things on her mind. I asked her what she wanted for lunch hoping she’d not have a clue so I could recommend making the hero I had in mind. She only slightly paid attention until the second time I mentioned it and said she wasn’t in the mood for a sandwich, that I could make myself whatever I wished; she would make her own lunch. When the show ended I turned off the TV and went to work in the kitchen assembling the parts I’d need for the Primo.
          There was a jar of pimento, prosciutto, Canadian ham, balsamic vinegar, mayonnaise, provolone, turkey breast loaf, tomato, lettuce, and the loaf of Subway’s style hero. The only thing missing was the ham capicola and Manhattan Special Espresso soda. Carefully I prepared the parts, trimming the fat from the prosciutto, slicing it all up while toasting the bread loaf to give it some character. I made two sandwiches, each cut in half, in case my wife changed her mind.
          I brought my plate into the living room, sat down, and was about to take a bite when I noticed something afoul; she was futzing around in the back of the TV and the picture screen was frozen; she was frozen, too, and I knew I wouldn’t be enjoying my hero then, so I stood up and moved to the dining table to devour two quarters of the masterpiece. As I ate, I wondered: Was she going to blame me for breaking the TV? I had turned it off in good condition after Seinfeld inspired me into real life, but I sat nervously shaking my leg as she spoke with a technician over the phone to resolve the problem. She hadn’t bothered to ask me what had happened when I turned the set off ; I hoped I was in the clear, but you never know.
          After finishing the hero, I wrapped her two quarters into cellophane and refrigerated it, then came into the study to get my distaste of everything, but the hero, off my chest. Wouldn’t you know it; I hadn’t finished this first paragraph when she disarmed me coming in with an announcement; hold the presses. It seems the modem was bad and called the cable company, she said, only to get a novice that kept telling her to unplug and re-plug the set to no avail. After hanging up, she took matters into her own hands. She went back to the TV and did some troubleshooting the outcome being a live picture on-screen. Disaster averted. In a better mood now, she said she'd have a quarter hero after all! I could write on my merry way, shuck the soul searching, and get on with my life. Bravo Taichung!
Copyright © 2019 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved 

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