Words_The Final Chapter of The Little Droops That Could

PART III

Yes, this is Part III, which means that there is a Part I and a Part II and then a Part Tee at the end of this blog. All are welcome.

After some thoughtful discussion with friends (straight up gossip and slander) and accurate retelling of what transpired at the restaurant (Droops got wasted off of Romanian chocolate and served us drunkenly ever after), it was obvious that there was only one thing left to do. I needed to find out if Droop's abrupt kindness was temporary (on account of Maria) or if I was now mysteriously robed with a kind of chocolate-associated invincibility. 

Coworker Amanda and I decided to test the Droopshi waters while on a lunch break as we both had sushi on the brain. A week or so had gone by since the chocolate exchange. This was it. I was about to find out whether or not I was considered worthy or forgotten. 

We walked through the doors and faced our fate. There she was. The Droops, Droopshi Nazi, Droopy Doggy Dogg--in all of her sushi-serving, soap-opera watching, chocolate-loving, saggy-faced glory. A montage of all of our classic moments together flashed in slow motion before my eyes. I imagined Roxette's "It must have been love" filling the background as continuous clips of Droops ignoring me transitioned to us laughing hysterically together over piles of endless chocolate with our arms around each other while riding a rainbow-colored unicorn--or was it a unicorn-shaped rainbow? I was getting ahead of myself. 

"Oh, hi! Welcome," Droops smiled at us and grabbed two menus. I had never seen her move so fast in my life. (We. Are. SO. In.) She moved instinctively toward our regular booth by the window and then abruptly stopped and pivoted in the other direction. "It cold over here," she said moving away. "It warm here." (Um, there are warm and cold areas?) She led us to a table opposite of the window, behind the bar. "Thank you..." I trailed and then pounced on the opportunity to drive our fate home. "How did you like the chocolate?" I asked as we sat down. "I like very much, thank you." More smiles. She left us to look over the menus. I stared at Amanda, wide-eyed. She stared back. "So there's a warm section..." I pondered aloud noticing it was indeed considerably warmer where we sat. We looked over at our usual spot which had a couple sitting at the next table over. It made sense now. Droops segregated her customers into hot and cold which had both literal and figurative meaning. Droops then dropped off two glasses of water. With lemon. Without even asking us. Then she took our order while doing something she never did before: she engaged us; initiated conversation with us; it was like we were in a semi-real relationship with questions and answers that actually mattered. 

First, she suggested a roll to Amanda which made me a little nervous as Amanda preferred something else which prompted a mini speech about why she preferred that something else. I didn't know if this kind of independent behavior would drive Droops back to her old ways so I decided if I started to sense a bad regressive vibe from Droops, I would give Amanda a swift kick under the table. As I was assessing my kicking angle, I suddenly realized that Droops was looking at me for my order.
"You getting the Arnold roll?" (She remembered my usual?)
"Oh," I said, caught off guard. "Actually, I'm getting something new today," and pointed out one of the special rolls.
"OK," Droops said and then was gone. When she returned with our food, I realized we were missing soy sauce dishes, but she was already headed back to the kitchen.
"Are you missing something?" I heard a deeper voice say. I looked up and saw the sushi chef (Droop's presumed husband) looking at me from behind the bar. (Is he talking to me?)
"Uh, yeahhhh," I said slow enough so that if he wasn't talking to me, I would just pretend I was agreeing with the TV. It was tuned to 'Desperate Housewives.' I would somehow make it work. "We don't have dishes for soy sauce," I said. He shot off a rapid string of Japanese to Droops who turned from going into the kitchen to instead getting us our soy sauce dishes. We had not only won over Droops but her husband, too. We had everything we needed and more. Good food, good service, a warm setting, amicable business-customer relationship; it was just plain dreamy. 

After we were finished, we exchanged cheerful goodbyes and thank yous, bundled into the car, and marveled on our budding relationship with the little Droops that I thought never could. But oh she can! It still seems unfair to reap so much good from something so seemingly shallow but perhaps all she needed was a little love to get her going. And if that love is in the form of chocolate, then Romania, here I come. Unicorns, you're up next.