I was sitting at a table in the dining room of Ichi Ramen with six, small, styrofoam cups of ice water. The kind staff had delivered these to me on a plastic black tray.
Apparently, I looked dehydrated.
When I glanced at the couple next to me, they also had been served a copious amount of ice water in small cups.
I glanced at the mural in the restaurant, which was chocked full of colorful illustrations: vibrant poke bowls, frothy bubble teas and teeming bowls of ramen mid-spill (for the drama).
In the quiet afternoon light, I stirred my Thai iced bubble tea with the hefty pink straw (you know the ones that are tapered at the end like a shiv to pierce the plastic top of the cup and which quite honestly always require a little more force than I’m entirely comfortable with).