It was the day of the Moon Festival and I was in a hurry for the dinner party at Saigon 1975 in Falls Church, Virginia. At a glance, it was a humble-looking restaurant. However, once the food arrived, it was magic. Our group went for family-style. We shared our meals as we turned the center table. When we wanted to reach for what we desired to eat before someone like Foxy ate it all, we had to turn the inner table without knocking out someone’s wine. Luckily, only ones who drank were me and my neighbor. Almost everyone acted as if it was the Prohibition in our party.

Queen-Bee Mary who did the ordering did a splendid job. It also helped that she spoke Vietnamese fluently. Once we were at another Vietnamese restaurant, she understood what the waiter was saying while we sat and chatted away oblivious to all. Impatient to our ignorance she called out, “Who ordered number 37?” Suddenly, stripped of our identity, we became numbers. I was stunned that her voice could carry. She was such a petit thing yet she could cry out thunderously. She was perfect as our queen mum.

We were soon wowed by the dishes that were served on our table. I was especially impressed with the rice crackers that were shaped like shells and embedded with sesame seeds. I almost searched for pearls that might lurk in its crevices. It was too pretty to eat, but we tore it apart and shared it. Dipping them into the dishes that came with it made it delightful. Silence ensued for we were too busy tearing into our foods. An elegant dinner party should consist of witty conversation, but we were too busy eating to give a hoot about polite niceties. Family-style could feel like an eating-marathon. You get nervous that someone else would finish eating what you like to eat, so you find yourself eating as quickly as you could before the food disappeared. It was a good thing that my friend Neethia was not present, or she would have starved because she was too polite, unlike Foxy who ate with gusto.

Queen Bee Mary had done a swell job of ordering us a great meal. However, we had to pay at the end of the meal and had a bit of an issue trying to divide the bill thanks to the wine that was added to it. Sadly, we didn’t have a millionaire amongst us who was too willing to pick up the check and declare, “I shall pick up the tab!” One can only dream.

After the meal was over, we all agreed to sit on the lawn at the Mosaic District and moon-watch since it was the day of the Moon-Festival. However, some of us became distracted by the breakdancing at the Mosaic. The dance was athletic and it was a feast for the eyes, especially to Mia who unwillingly blurted out, “Nice abs!” I looked at her with a grin. Who can blame her? Great abs were great abs.

Eventually, we the ogling females joined the party on the lawn. There were mooncakes to be shared. Queen-Bee Elizabeth had purchased them to offer them as gifts to us. She had loyal subjects like Harold-the-knight who refused to desert her when she had to use the loo in a restaurant. While some of us were thinking to walk ahead instead of waiting for her, Harold-the-knight exclaimed, “I cannot leave Queen-Bee Elizabeth! She’s Queen-Bee!”

Anyhow, the mooncakes were tempting, and Foxy slyly went for them as I eyed her, which caused her to become agitated. There was nothing wrong with eating them but I enjoyed teasing Foxy who liked to eat. Life was ebbing away. I liked being mischievous when I was permitted—I had to have some fun.

Sadly, the full moon stayed hidden. It was the day of its honor, but the clouds hid it as if jealous of its glory. We lamented but felt compensated through our friendship. I sat behind Queen-Bee Mary who looked like a young girl from behind. Her form was lithe and her styled hair wavy. I could not resist, and I clicked on my mobile phone. She quickly turned and demanded a picture taken together. Lovely women cannot resist the camera, which is why Lensman’s opening line to a girl would be, “Would you care for a photoshoot?” The opening line worked like a charm. No girl could refuse it.

After the photoshoot, we sat on the fake grass to enjoy the summer that was coming to an end. I laid down for a moment. It was the best way to look upon the starry sky but realized that the sky was absent of its stars and moon. Yet, the night blanketed us and the breeze was enticing. With friends to enliven the moment, the day ended surprisingly well. With a lingering regret, we got up and shook our clothes. Queen-Bee Elizabeth had sat on a jacket that had the tag still on. She had meant to return it, but we regretted that it was too late for that.

I could imagine what the salesgirl may ask, “Ma’am, did you sit on this jacket?”

“No! I didn’t! I swear.”

“How do you explain the stain?”

“It was fake grass, so how could there be stains?”

“So, you admit that you sat on this jacket?”

Exasperated Queen-Bee Elizabeth may defend herself with, “The stain must have been there. Why would I be sitting on a jacket with the tag still on?”

Many things are like that in life. We gain something—even lovers—that we find ourselves unable to return due to occurrences that we are not able to control. It is a pity that we couldn’t simply return our dates like the products that we purchase. It would have been simpler if we could take our dates to a counter and say to the sales clerk, “Ma’am, I don’t like this guy. He whines too much. I left the tag on him, so I would like to return him.” Indeed, life cannot be that simple. Finally, we said our goodbyes and parted as the late summer breeze swirled around us like that of a lover’s kiss.