We consider ourselves somewhat foodies. We enjoy a good meal, a good snack, hell, a good drink. Especially a good drink. We also like to think we’ve heard of plenty a horror story about restaurant experiences and food gone bad. We’ve lived a few too, gagging on a long blonde hair while snacking on nachos ruined a perfectly good game of bowling. As with any story, the best part isn’t always the main event, it’s the fallout from the main event. It’s not about Frank the Tank running naked through the quad, it’s the reaction he gets.
Let’s set up the scene, stepping out for a quick lunch at one of those great hole in the wall sushi places. The place, a favourite for many is
called MOMO’s Sushi, and is located just on the outskirts of Gastown on Water Street. This past Tuesday, three of us decided to stop in for some lunch. Nothing like sushi and salad to keep you going for the day. At least we thought. It all started off innocent, grab a quick seat, little chit chat, easy and friendly order taking by the waitress. Two of our dishes arrived quickly, and we made quick use of our salads, and started up on the california rolls, tempura and sashimi. By the time we’d finished our salads, the third meal arrived.
That’s when it happened, a few bites into his salad, Ian, stopped dead in his tracks, and let go a little WTF action.
Us two looking over at his plate of salad, and him looking down in shock, we noticed resting amongst the tiny pieces of lettuce, a used, folded up band-aid. That’s right, a fucking band aid. Bandage, plaster, sticky, call it what you want, but it was sitting there, waiting to be scooped up. A few seconds past, and we flagged down a waitress, showing them the band aid they just sold us with a side of salad and sushi. We’re not going to lie there was a communication barrier, a little, but also a little ignorance, the two waitresses/managers that we spoke to, didn’t really seem to see the big deal.
At first, the waitress said, ‘we’ll cancel it’, we later found this meant, we’ll take it away, and won’t charge you. I was waiting for the Jedi mind trick, and her saying, ‘there was no band aid in your salad’. Another waitress came by letting us know that she’d take over the conversation, because the manager couldn’t really speak English. We let them know, that none of us should have to pay for our meals, to which she said she’d check if she could do that. Can you imagine? A bloody band aid, and you still have to negotiate!
She came back, and said, that if we were not going to pay, we weren’t allowed to eat any more of the food. The whole idea behind that concept was ridiculous, exactly what are you going to do with the food?, we asked. Maybe, we should let everyone in the restaurant know that we just found a band aid. She either didn’t understand the significance of the threat or just didn’t give a shit. I’ll be honest, the two of us had a little bit more rice, we were starving! Although that disappeared too when contestant number two spit up what appeared to be one of those little nipple stems on an orange. I’m not kidding around. It was this little solid stone, that we’re assuming, best case scenario was that orange bit, and it came out of a california roll. That’s when we all dropped our chopsticks. We were ready to leave, the three of us got up, dead set that we weren’t going to pay, but also not cause much of a scene.
Outside, the second manager/waitress chased after us, and let us know that it was fine that we didn’t pay, but that we should never come back to the restaurant. Color me stupid, you actually think we’d come back after finding your chefs bits in our salad? As we tried our damnest to explain the gravity of the situation, we let a touristy couple know that we found a band aid in our salad before the walked in. The two New Yorkers rethought their lunch plans pretty bloody quickly. Crazy stuff. Go for lunch, try some sushi, just say NONO to MOMO’s.
MOMO Sushi 375 Water Street, Unit 6, Vancouver, BC