When a friend calls and says, “My birthday is coming up. Do you want to have dinner with ninjas or dimsum?” The choice is clear. So, tonight, I had dinner at Ninja New York.
Not surprisingly, I had trouble finding the restaurant.
Once there, a ninja led us into the bowels of the building where a “feudal” Japanese village had been recreated. Because I was late, Iwound up following a family with three little boys into the restaurant. The ninja asked, “Do you want to go to your table the safe way or the ninja way?”
“Ninja way!” Three little boys, and I, chorused.
The ninja way was through a twisty and extremely dark passage built into the wall that led you up and down stairs back to a few feet from where we started, albeit on the other side of the door.
Dinner was fun, mostly because I think we were all determined to wring every bit of fun out of the experience. Otherwise… well, you know, ninjas are not trained to be waiters. Ours said that he’d majored in Forensic Astronomy and Ninja. He was pretty funny all evening, but more of the ironic, hip version of ninja.
When I left the restaurant and got on the subway, my car and the car in front of it had no passengers. For three stops, the train would stop, the doors opened and no one got on.
I couldn’t help wondering if the ninjas had gone out and slaughtered everyone while we’d been in the restaurant.