Waiting For My Number to Be Called

© John K. Taber 1997, 1999

A Chinese friend recommended Asia Gardens in San Francisco's Chinatown to us for dim sum. It was newly opened and the rage with the Chinese. So, one Sunday morning I packed the family into the car for the trip to Chinatown.

For those not familiar with dim sum, it is either a lunch or a brunch of Chinese hors d'oeuvres, all sorts of dumplings with many different fillings, and many other things. The hors d'oeuvres are served on small plates stacked on carts that attendants roll by the tables. You point at what you want as the carts come by. Supposedly, dim sum means "heart's delight", meaning that you pick and choose the hors d'oeuvres that appeal to you. There is no fixed menu. The used plates are left stacked on your table and at the end of the meal, the waiter determines your bill by counting the plates. More expensive hors d'oeuvres are served on two plates. It is also called a tea lunch because you choose your tea as well. There are numerous Chinese teas. It's noisy, and fun, and a great way to eat.

So here we were in Asia Gardens which was packed. I was very hungry because we skipped breakfast in order to make a brunch of it. There were so many people that we had to take numbers, from 1 to 99 in black, and again, from 1 to 99 in red. Our number was 61 black. There was nothing for it but to wait.

I heard Chinese over the PA but I didn't hear numbers being called, and I began to worry how long it would be before we were seated. They seemed awfully slow. Then it dawned on me that what I heard on the PA were the numbers being called in Chinese. "Oh, my God" I thought, "How was I going to know when 61 was called?" And it was then I noticed that the restaurant was filled with Chinese. The four of us, our little family, were the only Caucasians in the entire place. When I'm hungry I get neurotic easily. I feared they had already called my number, and I would have to wait until they got to 61 red before we could eat. And what if I missed that? We could be in a Chinese restaurant and starve to death!

Then I had a bright idea born of hunger. I showed the guy behind me my number, 61, and asked him what it was in Chinese. "Lok sap yet" he told me. I had him repeat it several times and it is burned in my memory to this day. "Lok sap yet", "lok sap yet". I meant to listen carefully to the PA and I hoped to catch my number as it went by. By the way, for those of you who know Chinese, "lok sap yet" is Cantonese, not Mandarin. There are several dialects of Cantonese commonly spoken in San Francisco's Chinatown. Mandarin is the exception. The guy assured me my number had not been called, and told me the English for the latest number called.

I listened with both ears, and by comparing the sounds over the PA with the numbers that I could see on the tickets being triumphantly waved at the head waiter, I began to catch on to Chinese numbers. It was a simple, very rational counting system. One began with yet (1) and went to sap (10), then counted ten-one (sap yet, 11) and so on to twenty, which was two-tens, two-tens one, two-tens-two, and so on. Very logical and simple. No umlauting of vowels, no shifting of consonants for euphony like our "five" and "fifteen". Just "five", "ten-five".

Hunger is a good teacher, and I began to think I would not need further help to take my place when called. I got so that I could predict the next number. There was a second of static as the PA was switched on and I heard
NG SAP GOW

I recognized 59 (five-tens nine) , and if I understood correctly, the next number should be "lok sap" (six-tens) , then the next after would be mine, "lok sap yet" (six-tens one). Another split second of static, and
LOK SAP

I had that feeling you get when you know you are going to ace an exam. I got the family's attention and told them to get ready, we were going to be called next. There was another second of static, and
SIXTY-ONE