The best part of the rather generic airport hotel was that it had a really great "American" sports bar with a baseball bat for a handle and a hodgepodge of international sports equipment tacked up everywhere. A sign announced the superbowl party would start at 7 a.m. the next morning. I'm still disappointed that I missed out on the free bar snacks. In my disorientation from the flight and general culture shock, when the waiter brought a platter of onion rings, fries, calamari, and some Japanese snacks around to our table I waived him away, meekly saying he had the wrong table.
Little did I know you were supposed to hand pick each item I wanted from the basket, placing it on a small plate. It was table side buffet. The oddness of watching a bar full of people, one-by-one, carefully choosing individual fries with a pair of tongs did nothing to dispel the aching lack of fried foods that was growing inside me. I readied myself for his return , which never happened. It is one my life's great regrets.
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