CRAZED FOREIGNER GOES ON A CHOPSTICK KILLING SPREE AT LOCAL FAMILY RESTAURANT

Well, that's what the headline very well could have been had I not contained myself.

I think I'm pretty reasonable when it comes to being foreign in this country.
I can put up with the stares.
I smile and wave when a gaggle of Junior High School girls point and say, 'look at that American!!' "Hellllooooo American!!!!"
I grit my teeth when someone comments on how "big" I am, sure I know they mean tall and there is a language issue, it's all good.
Unlike some of my friends I don't get angry when someone responds to my Japanese in horribly incorrect English that I can barely understand.
As per Green eyed Geisha's complaints today I can put up with non-apologetic umbrella bashing during rainy season.
I manage to just give slightly puzzled smiles when grilled about my foreign 'high' nose or 'sauce' face.

All these things usually don't bother me that much.

But the other day, the royal host waitress just. Went. Too. Far.

As I mentioned, we went to get Ash's passport the other day, and a few things annoyed me in the morning so I guess I was pissed to begin with.
For example, the morning of passport day, we went to Midori denka to buy my Rodeo Boy III. (Stay tuned Monday when it arrives for pictures and the Rodeo Boy III back story!)
Now Ashton tends to go a bit mental in Midori Denka so we usually carry him instead of putting him in the baby car stroller, I think all the bright lights and incessant jingles get to him. Don't blame the little fella, hell if it wasn't for the free massage chair scamming I'd be going mental too.

After we'd made our purchase and had been informed that it wouldn't arrive until Sunday I huffingly went to the register clutching our credit card while Ryota dealt with the squirming, shrieking, not-so-cute-today baby. When I gave the register lady our credit card (which is in Ryota's name) she hesitated to give me the pen and said she needed the cardholder to sign the receipt. Ryota was walking around with Ash and I explained this but she gave me an apology and said she really needed him to sign. I was tempted to tell her my name was Ryota but instead I called the 'cardholder' over and he told the lady that I was his wife and it was fine if I signed. She persisted to piss me off and apologised with pleading eyes for him to respond to her love of rules and sign the paper. So I took over baby duty and he scribbled on the paper. Fuck me lady I'm obviously not stealing his credit card, who cares who signs!? A few more 'moshiwakenai's' and bowing later, we were out.

After bitching with Ryota on how 'atama ga katai' Japanese staff are, we went to our local photo shop to get Ash's passport pici, they told us they couldn't do it and directed us to another shop. That shop told us the same thing.
This went on until the 5th store finally said they did baby passport pictures. The shop where we ended up were actually really nice and said they'd give us a good deal on portraits of Ash if they could use the pictures to put up on their wall, so I'm glad we actually ended up there! It was a family run store and the Grandad spent about 15 minutes holding Ash and parading him around to his customers exclaiming how cute he was.

So it's like I took 2 steps back with the photo shop hunting and 1 step forward with the nice family.

Anyway, on to the Royal Host twit.

I'm not a huge fan of Royal Host as far as family restaurants are concerned, more of a Gusto girl, although the comfy boothes and club sandwich with chips are always pretty good after a big night on the piss.
In the old days, when going for lunch on a hot day I would have been searching for the place with the cheapest, coldest beer I could down at 1pm but as priorities have changed I now search for places where the baby ca.. stroller will fit and whether or not there is a nappy change table on the premises. So Royal Host it was.

It was air-conditioned, nice and big, and not too busy, perfect. We settled in to our booth and Ashton was giving everyone big gummy grins. The waitress brought us our iced water with a big smile and all was dandy, I was even forgetting the midori denka incident.

While Ryota was in the toilet our waitress (who was about 50 I imagine) came over and asked if I had any toys with us for Ashton. Now my Japanese isn't perfect, but the fact that I could understand and respond to this fairly random question I think indicates that I can speak Japanese, no?

I told her yes, we have toys, and no, we didn't need any scummy, second-hand, drooled on toys from the royal host toy box.
We then chatted for at least a few minutes about how old Ashton was blah blah blah. We chatted. IN JAPANESE.

Ryota came back and we ordered our food, which for the record was a 'Japanese colorful set' for me and Katsudon for Ryota. The colorful set wasn't so colourful in the end but quite tasty all the same. When twitty McWaitress lady brought Ryota's food, she also brought our utensils and turned TO RYOTA and said "Can she use chopsticks?"
I fucking hate this cunting question. How can she not know that I would be able to use chopsticks? I'm clearly not on holiday, I clearly live in Japan. I talked to her in Japanese, why would she ask that question but more importantly why the fuck would she ask RYOTA that question??
Ryota gave a sly smile because he knows how much that question pisses me off and started to respond but I cut him off with a curt "Yes I can use them."

The curtness was obviously lost on her because when she came back with my food she asked Ryota "Oh, can she drink Miso soup too?"
I was still bitching about the chopstick question while she made the miso soup remark.
Now if I was eating sashimi, I could possibly understand surprise but miso fucking soup?? You can buy miso in Woolies now!

Ryota and I had a discussion about it when she left the table and he claimed she was being kind, which I get, that's why I didn't spear her eyeball with the chopsticks and throw the scalding miso soup in her face. But I tried to explain to him it was like him going to Australia and the staff turning to me and asking if he could use a knife and fork and if he could eat fish and chips. He said I should just let it go, she was being nice.

I have now vowed to not go back to Royal Host. Well, until the next time I want to sleep on the comfy chairs while waiting for the first train in a drunken stupor.