Hong Kong, a Chinese restaurant in Idaho Falls, tells false fortunes. Three men entered and were seated. Two ordered food. The check came with two fortune cookies. One curious man cracked open his fortune and read it aloud. The large waitress returned. "I forgot to give you three cookies," she said.
I reached for the tardy cookie and broke it. With the fortune in one hand and the shattered remains of the cookie on the table, I read the fortune silently. The text on the small paper delivered not a fortune, but an epiphany. My fortune was identical to the curious man's. The cookie fragments remained on the table motionless like my heart, but I did eat. Could we have the same fortune? Impossible. Do true fortunes only come to those who order food? No way.
Shocked and frustrated, I needed release. With the normal deliverance miles away, I settled for competition. We picked up a fourth man and returned to my home. To some, table tennis might be a leisurely activity. To the four townies of Idaho Falls, it is a fierce battle of manhood. My partner and I finished the night undefeated. The curious man who sat across me at Hong Kong may have been given an identical fortune, but as he stood across me at the ping pong table, it was clear that our fortunes are not entirely linear. Thus, I have lost all faith in fortunes--Cookies I will continue to eat.
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