All that and dim sum

Flying past the flaring pagodas, dodging the red paper lanterns, and catching whiffs of herbs and delectable treats and eats is what makes Chinatown one of my favorite places to be. The strangely shaped fruits release an intoxicating scent that make me forget that the vendors wield broomsticks as weapons.

So glad I don’t have to walk up that hill.

Yesterday, I decided to poke my beak inside a small CD store. CDs, posters, DVDs, and trinkets filled the walkways, hung from the ceilings and adorned the walls. It was the best type of fire hazard. They had everything except what I was looking for. I left without a copy of The Spice Gulls.

Just as I was about to make my way back to The Wire, it happened. What I have been anticipating hopelessly each time I made a trip to Chinatown. The most perfect, most succulent morsel of dim sum took the plunge from someone’s to-go box, onto the sidewalk.

Wingman said this here is a “shu-mai”

That tourist’s misfortune turned my good day into a great day. I swooped down and scooped that treasure into my beak and swallowed it whole.

I’m talon you, it was the greatest thing I’ve ever eaten.