Later that night, I met my parents down in Chinatown for dinner. Although my mom and dad were together in the Mah Jong parlor, my father had finished playing earlier than my mom and came out to meet me. He was under the assumption that my mom would meet us at the restaurant in forty-five minutes. I mentioned that I was not hungry yet and wanted to run a few errands. We started on our venture and strolled down a few crowded blocks toward Broadway.
I suggested that we should probably let her know that we were not headed directly to the restaurant just yet. Confirmingly, I handed the phone to him and he proceeded to dial. It took about three tries before the call advanced through the AT&T system and reached the targeted telephone number. My mom wasn't able to talk at the moment, so my father left the message that we were to meet her at the restaurant in forty-five minutes. Of course, the message was left with the forgetful near-deaf parlor keeper.
Needless to say, she did not get the message, but had left for the restaurant in less than five minutes after my father departed the parlor himself. We were unable to connect, wandering aimlessly looking for each other for a mere two hours before my father and I stumbled upon one perturbed mom waiting in front of the parlor, where we had passed by twice already. And needless to say, she tried calling my cellular phone but received nothing but busy signals.
The rest of the evening went smoothly; especially after we ate.
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