stupid maya

So, yesterday included some random misadventures par for the course here in Shanghai. My friend Sherry that has been housing me for the past two weeks left for Seoul early yesterday morning and before doing so, ensured that I would be up to no good by signing T and I up for a photo shoot at a fancy restaurant, Maya. Lured by the promise of endless free drinks and fish tacos in exchange for some posing and smiling, I unwittingly sent out smses to my other nearest and dearest, encouraging them to stop by one of their favorite joints for drinks and food while watching me and T make utter fools of ourselves. And fools we were.

The amateur-hour theme of the photo shoot was not surprising. This is, after all, Shanghai, where every amateur is given his/her own fifteen minutes of fame and, if particularly enterprising, can extend it to a full hour. But three hours, five weak margaritas, and about two metric tons of chips and salsa (the “canapés” we were promised) later, we were starving, glassy-eyed with awkwardness and boredom, and ready to punch someone in the face. I had somehow gotten other friends dragged into it, friends who were in good faith just coming to Maya to hang out on one of my last days and wanted only some form of taco or chorizo or cheesy item to gnaw on while doing so. God. After the last shot (a long-table, romantically-lit banquet dinner where people apparently keep napkins folded on top of plates and eat only chips and guac), we were told that the kitchen was now closed and we could feel free to finish all the chips on the table.

What the fuck?! I don’t even get one stinking taco out of this mess? Eff all of you to hell. There are a lot of things that I will do for food, which apparently includes cajoling and berating my boyfriend into dressing in “smart casual” and accompanying me to Most Awkward Situation Ever née Most Irritating Experience I’ve Had For a While, then obligating my friends via Guise of Free Drink to participate as well, but to then be fed only small trough by small trough of tortilla chips accompanied by ridiculously shallow containers of salsa?? RUDE. Eff you again. Don’t tell me I’m getting canapés when I am in fact getting Shanghai versions of the jumbo Costco bag of Mi Tierra chips and Kool-aid versions of margaritas. I don’t want to see you again, particular in a dark alley while I just happen to be carrying those aforementioned items, which may or may not be jammed down your gullet while the words, “FEEL FREE TO FINISH THE CHIPS AT THE TABLE” are being screamed into your ear.