Unfortunately, the execution was a mess. The Quaker, Liz and myself got off the subway at Penn Station one-by-one at the agreed upon time and started looking around for The DAsian, who I trust as the "leader," for some reason, when we're going to Korean restaurants. Yet, not only was he nowhere to be seen, but he was completely out of cell phone contact. We had purchased tallboys for the wait/ ride, but they were soon exhausted as the delay progressed from simple lateness to utter absurdity, during which I left increasingly threatening voicemails on the DAsian's phone.
Forty five minutes passed. Just for a moment I was worried about The DAsian, thinking that he may have gotten hit by a bus or fallen into an open manhole. We figured their must have been some kind of emergency, and, like good friends do, we decided to gorge on Korean BBQ (in his memory, of course) in K-town, across the street from Penn Station. We made our way outside, and just as we were crossing the street, the DAsian finally called to conveniently let me know that they were waiting in the restaurant. After a short argument peppered with excessive swearing and citations to a confusing email, we conveniently caught the next train to Flushing. We stewed throughout the train ride, hungry and exasperated by the failure of our best laid plans and making empty threats about what we'd do to the DAsian when we saw him--- like push his face in a pot full of octopi or draw a mustache on him like the girl below.
