FLASHBACK: a long while ago, chicago jerkface, told me of a magical place in chinatown where there are fantastic buns with barbecued pork inside of them.
he told me the name but, i forgot it.
YESTERDAY MORNING: we're meeting on ave C in sty town. i picked up red beard as he was right by where i grabbed my brekky.
after our lovely learning experience that was the hunter safety course, our teacher offered to take us shooting out east.
hoi, our teacher is a chinese american who is a retired cop, and he speaks like a retired cop from the lower east side, needed breakfast for the ride out east so he got out of his friend's ride to tell us we were going to stop for something to eat at this red awning
it was on avenue c and delancy.
as hoi stepped out of his vehicle, and rolled in to get whatever it is he eats for breakfast and one of my passengers, my asst art director, the little fellow, muttered quietly, "i bet he's going in there to get buns."
and then it hit me, THIS WAS THAT PLACE.
fong da. the place where the pork buns are. the bastard throws open the door and immediately tells the little fellow to go get some, this is the place, go get some.
the bastard usually isn't the sort to just bark out orders but, when it hits you like a slap in the head, you have to react.
later that day, it made for the perfect lunch like snack. good times.
—the bastard
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