Trio spotted in the queue for Columbia8, a tiny curry restaurant in Osaka.
Upon arrival we were greeted by a chirpy doorman stationed outside the restaurant door. He welcomed us into a queue which spiralled 1.5 floors upwards along a stairwell. We could not see what was inside, but noted that everyone left looking joyfully flushed with many a kerchief dabbing many a sweat-beaded neck.
Those standing in the queue seemed to accept their dual fates: of having to wait patiently, and of the thing being waited for—an upcoming assault to the culinary senses. The air was intermittently punctuated by the doorman bellowing head counts to the staff inside. Most of us didn’t say a word and awkwardly passed time by shuffling from foot to foot.
Except for the three, pictured. They were reading out Mariah Carey lyrics, enunciating each word one-by-one with equal weight and tone.
/ I-want-to-be-the-only-one-for-you.
/ More-than-you-will-ever-know.
/ Make-my-wish-come-true.
And erupting into shoulder-convulsant laughter at the end of each sentence. To stop myself from also laughing (at strangers from the disrespectful vantage point I was in at the time), I busied myself with pen and notebook.
