I knew the crab was a bad idea. The minute I gave into my Thai colleague's pleas that you-can't-come-to-Jumbo-seafood-in-Singapore-and-not-eat-the-crab, I knew things might go pear shaped.
A bib would have helped, but as none of my colleagues nor my client were wearing one, I didn't think it would be appropriate to ask. But I was wearing a white shirt and cream trousers, so of course they were the perfect palette for "crab aux chemise" or "cangrejo con salsa de Massimo Dutti".
Needless to say, the crab went all over my shirt (as I tried to tame its claws with a chopstick and a clamper).
So I decided that the most sensible option would be to go to the bathroom and wash it.
The bathrooms were actually public bathrooms, so there were a lot of interested ladies walking in and out as I put too much hand soap onto my hand and smeared it all over my front. I then vigorously scrubbed my shirt, rinsed it, and while dripping wet, looked around for the much needed hand dryer. Given the way this evening was going, of course it had to be one of those new Dyson dryers where you put your hands into a little slot, rather than letting the air go anywhere. Not helpful when I couldn't exactly take my shirt off (this wasn't the airport) and I couldn't quite fit into the air dryer slot either.
So I resorted to flicking my shirt (with feeling), hoping to get rid of some of the water. Clearly my flicking was too vigorous, as the next thing I notice is that I've completely shredded my shirt. Big, gaping gashes. Hulk meets Spring Break 2012 style.
So out Hulk walked. Chin up. Demanded a bib from a waitress and sat down. No, I won't have any more crab - thanks, but-it-was-quite-delicious.
A bib would have helped, but as none of my colleagues nor my client were wearing one, I didn't think it would be appropriate to ask. But I was wearing a white shirt and cream trousers, so of course they were the perfect palette for "crab aux chemise" or "cangrejo con salsa de Massimo Dutti".
Needless to say, the crab went all over my shirt (as I tried to tame its claws with a chopstick and a clamper).
So I decided that the most sensible option would be to go to the bathroom and wash it.
The bathrooms were actually public bathrooms, so there were a lot of interested ladies walking in and out as I put too much hand soap onto my hand and smeared it all over my front. I then vigorously scrubbed my shirt, rinsed it, and while dripping wet, looked around for the much needed hand dryer. Given the way this evening was going, of course it had to be one of those new Dyson dryers where you put your hands into a little slot, rather than letting the air go anywhere. Not helpful when I couldn't exactly take my shirt off (this wasn't the airport) and I couldn't quite fit into the air dryer slot either.
So I resorted to flicking my shirt (with feeling), hoping to get rid of some of the water. Clearly my flicking was too vigorous, as the next thing I notice is that I've completely shredded my shirt. Big, gaping gashes. Hulk meets Spring Break 2012 style.
So out Hulk walked. Chin up. Demanded a bib from a waitress and sat down. No, I won't have any more crab - thanks, but-it-was-quite-delicious.
Mala suerte. A la próxima mejor utiliza tus manos xD. Por lo menos el cangrejo sabía bien :D.
ReplyDeleteInes de la Fressange, my dear Ginni! What would Ines have done - that's the question to ask in such a... uhm... situation.
ReplyDeleteGood to read that you have remained loyal to Massimo Dutti. It always makes me think of you when I walk past one.