JALAN JALAN CARI MAKAN

I went out to dinner at a spiffy restaurant town the other night. The bill duly arrived at the end of the meal as it always does.

I never did like the bill-at-the-end-of-the-meal system. That’s because money is a very different entity before and after you eat.

Before you eat, money has very little value. When you’re hungry, you sit down in a restaurant, you’re like the ruler of an empire. You don’t care about the cost. You want maximum food in minimum time.

“More drinks, appetizers, dessert, quickly, quickly! Serve anything. Everything. With or without the plate. It doesn’t matter. Just bring the chow. It will be the greatest meal of our lives.”

Then, after the meal, once you’re full, you can’t remember ever being hungry in your life.

You see people walking into the restaurant, you can’t believe it. “Why are all these people coming in here now? I’m so full. How could they eat?”

You’ve got your pants undone, napkins destroyed, cigarette butt in the ais kacang bowl. You never want to see food again as long as you live. That’s when the bill comes. This is why people are always mystified by the bill.

“What is this? How could this be?” They start passing it around the table. “Does this look right to you? We’re not hungry now, why are we ordering all this food?”

Hunger will make people do amazing things. I mean, the proof of that is cannibalism. What do they say? You know, they’re eating . . . “This is good. Who is this? I like this person.”

I would think the hardest thing about being a cannibal is trying to get some really solid straight sleep through the night sleep. You’d think with any little noise they’d go “What is it? . . . Who’s that? . . . Who’s there? . . . Is somebody there? . . . What do you want? . . . You look hungry. Are you hungry? . . . Get the fook out of here!”