Since I currently feel like a paper bag, floating through the wind, I took up the offer to go to my best friend’s acquaintance's Buffet Birthday. The word buffet actually makes me feel physically ill, especially the alliteration of ‘Buffet Birthday’ but I guess that is apt considering the events of the night.
Being a food enthusiast, I googled the website of the place. ‘Spice Oven’. What got our palms sweating a little bit was the fact that it advertised itself as an indian restaurant but then ironically a ‘world cuisine banquet’. The options on the table were things that one would eat during a ‘tv dinner’ immersed in the riveting plot line of Emmerdale. Spag bol, chicken korma and ‘mini burgers’. I trip advisored it and there were 5 reviews, one of which was a mother explaining how she bought her autistic son there. The staff allegedly treated him well because he was ‘freaking out’. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or confused by this.
Going into the place was an experience. Stepping across a bridge taking you over a fake river thoughts flews around such as ‘am I in Borneo?’. The neon green jello brought me back to life and back to reality. I was in Reading.
40 people were there, all of whom I didn’t know. Instead of socialising I couldn’t take my eyes off what yet again reminded me of the jungle; a man who could’ve been an extra on ‘Sons of Anarchy’. He was collaborating coleslaw with curry. Revelatory. Flashes of my life ending up like his clouded my mind. Age 50, texting my mates ‘spice oven? ;)’ didn’t seem right. At all.
Half the boys at the ‘party’ thought they were BIG Sean, wearing black bomber jackets with chains on ‘fleek’. Apparently one of them was instagram famous. I tried to give him the eyes but he was too busy face timing his girlfriend whilst eating dim sum. #aroundtheworldcuisine.
I decided to take one for the team and get Ophelia and I a plate to share. Portion control isn’t really in my vocabulary (half American) so I ended up with a plate full of : chicken nugs, chinese food, curry, rice, bread and a bit of sweetocorn to keep up appearances. When I got back to the table some joker who pretended to be vegetarian even though he could barely fit into his blazer (bless) tried to put me down. :(
‘Is dat all for u’?’, he said as his hype men started chortling.
‘Yeah, and it’s just starters m8’, I shot back with, feeling like a fucking badass.
And I knew I had won. Fuck u.
For dessert I tried to chill out. I got two pieces of cake which didn’t look great so as people dipped a marshmallow into the chocolate fountain I pushed passed them and threw my plate of cake into it. Have it.