Dinner with Dad

I had dinner with my dad tonight — my family wound up doing nothing for Father’s Day, and perhaps this was on his mind this morning when he called me at work and asked if I’d like to have dinner. He asked what I felt like eating, and, my taste buds still reminiscing about Saturday night’s sushi with the handsome Blogstalker, I wanted sushi yet again. So after work I met up with my dad at Monster Sushi, on 23rd Street between 6th and 7th Avenue. We had Sapporo beer, as well as plenty of salmon, yellowtail, fluke, giant clam, tuna, and more. It’s always nice to have Japanese food with members of my immediate family, because it’s like returning together to our time in Tokyo. And strangely, there wasn’t an ounce of tension during the meal. We actually had a really nice time.

When we walked out of the restaurant I noticed that Blu was right across the street, a gay bar where Bryan and Bryan’s boyfriend and I went last week. I smiled to myself. My dad and I walked along 23rd Street, crossed 7th Avenue, and walked toward 8th, getting perilously close to the heart of Gay Chelsea, where I spend lots of my free time. These two mutually exclusive concepts — my dad, and gay Chelsea — tried to occupy the same space in my mind at the same time, but they just couldn’t do it, and so after my dad and I parted at 8th Avenue, so he could walk north up to Port Authority and take the bus home, I walked in the opposite direction, south, into familiar territory, right past the Big Cup, and back into my own familiar world.