Wagamama/Boston a tourist's trap

The other night before the Morrissey non-concert, Sue and I had to grab a bite to eat. I suggested Wagamama since a buddy of mine raved about it and Sue was very familiar with it from the years she lived in Japan.

First, I have to say we both headed over to Faneuil Hall with some trepidation.

First, it's Faneuil Hall, the epicenter for all things touristy in Boston.

Second, my buddy has a tacky streak a mile wide and has, on occasion, suggested Applybee's because they "can handle a crowd."

And third, anything new and trendy immediately sends up warning signals for me. I smell money, sheep, and crowd-thought every time.

(There is a reason we do things in three, just like I did above with my reasons, but at this moment the name for it and the reason we do it escapes me.)

Wagamama is everything I feared.

We were seated at a communal table by a person with way too much cheer. Anyone that happy has to have something wrong with them. The prices aren't cheap at all...the cheapest entree was something like twelve bucks--for noodles!

The crowd, since it was Faneuil Hall, was pure white tourists. Not a brother or ethnic-type in sight.

And the waitress had loose wires snapping behind her eyes. She came up to us with a handheld device and launched in the process for ordering food--I kid you not. "You'll tell me what you want, I'll input it here where it will immediately be sent to the kitchen where the cook will make your meal..." Wait a minute, isn't this the way all restaurants work? Oh, the difference is some food takes less time to make than other food so that will come out first. Don't expect for the food to come all at the same time. Uh, have you ever eaten in a Chinese restaurant before? Or Legals for that matter??

She asked us what we wanted to drink, and I said we needed a little time to think about it. Later Sue said she knew that was my cue that I didn't like the place. (What's to think about? I drink beer.) She was thinking the same thing; it's in these subtle ways that Sue and I communicate.

The waitress chirped a perky, okay, and Sue and I looked at each other. I said to Sue that the prices were too expensive for noodles and I felt like I was in a tourist trap. The young woman sitting next to me obviously overheard me because she smiled (or smirked, hell, I don't know.) Sue felt the same way.

Chinatown's a short walk away, peeps. There's a little hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese sandwich I go to a couple of times a week where I can get a sandwich or a ready-made lunch of chicken or beef or pork and rice for $2.50.