The Existential Meaning of My Fortune Cookie
For those looking for this week's "Ten Things I Think I Think", it's the next post.
I like food, and contrary to the popular wisdom in this burg, we actually have a good variety of places where you can get a good meal. I don't think you can complain about not having enough good places to eat in a town with a La Charreada (Mexican), Burgundys (Italian, Steaks), The Bistro, Casa Lu Au, The Old Barn Out Back, Mark Pi's, and a host of places that serve pretty doggone good food.
Well, my favorite of the lot is the Hunan Gardens, a great little Chinese place on Lima's east side. There, for awhile, I was eating there so much that the waitresses wouldn't even bother bringing a menu.... they'd just grab a bowl of Hot and Sour Soup, and an order of Kung Pao Chicken.
Well, due to the fact that I've been gaining so much weight that I'm in danger of developing my own gravitational pull, I kinda backed off the Hunan Gardens. However, since I was out that way to do my hospital visitations, I stopped by today to sample the fare (which was wonderful, as usual).
Anyhow, at the end, they bring you the check and a fortune cookie, which I took out of the plastic wrapper, broke open for my desert, and, lo and behold, was missing a fortune. Which leads me to this question....
What does it mean, existentially, if you get a fortune cookie without a fortune? Does it mean your future is so bright, words can't describe it, or so bad that you don't want to know? Does it mean you (gulp) have no future or that nothing good or bad is going to happen to you in the near future (just a future of days exactly like the last one)?
Or does it just mean that the quality control at Fortune Cookie Inc. is slipping?
I'm not sure, but it freaked me out enough that I made this mid-week post. Just an un-fortune-ate experience.