Thursday, 10 October 2002 | Noodles

My parents are sleeping in the next room, after having driven up from North Carolina this morning. Tonight we walked around my neighborhood in a pitiful misty rain and ate dinner at a Vietnamese/Peruvian place underneath the direction of a waitress with a forced giggle. As we walked back to my place full of rice-rice paper-rice noodles, my father looked up and down the streets with a watchful eye, rewarding each avenue a tacit safety-rating. They both like the place, they say. I hope their car's okay in the morning.

Tomorrow night (and the next) we'll be sleeping in tents in New Jersey, next to tents housing remote relatives (some of whom I haven't seen in about a decade), underneath fat, dark clouds spouting out less pitiful rain. There will be trees, I'm told.