PICKLED DUCK EGG

So there I was stuck on this commuter train in the suburbs of Atlanta
I got up to to Buckhead and went into this Crunch Fitness and did my thing
Then I had to figure out a way to get back down to my crummy apartment
That I shared with a Chinese exchanged student named Jensen
The guy was into engineering or something and was the first guy to me
Into pickled duck egg. The first time he gave me one of those hardboiled
Purple round eggs it was weird to me but I gave it a shot
That day I was sitting in the MARTA station waiting for this thing
The whole time I'm sitting there waiting for the train to come and
I am of course the only brown man in the place the rest of them are all
Black folks from the Deep South and let me tell you they were a rowdy
Bunch. 

One guy came on the platform and tells me "GIVE ME YOUR WALLET"

And I stood up and looked him dead in the eye "GIVE ME YOUR PICKLED DUCK EGG"

And I writhed and danced right there on the platform with a big
Green waterproof bag from Cabela's and my gear is jiggling around in the 
Bag with shoes and a Discman CD Player, shoes and socks and a few
Pens. The guy was stunned for a minute and I didn't know if he was gonna
Stab me or shoot me or if he was just fucking around, and I wasn't ready 
To die today and there was this Asian chick at my college that I was hoping to
Come back home to in my neighborhood that I'd met at this 24-hour diner.

"GIVE ME ALL YOUR PICKLED DUCK EGGS" I commanded it again and made my eyes
Look all crazy - like I was off my anti-psychotic medication or something
Would you believe it the guy lost interest and walked off to the other
End of the platform. 

At that moment I never wanted a pickled duck egg more in my life. 

Thank God the roar of the elevated train came through the
Tunnel and in another minute or so it pulled up to the platform and slowed
Down for me. The doors made a ding and then opened and I got in. The car
Was packed with Southern Black Folks and I was the only black-haired brown-eyed
Punjabi with Americana tongue, they didn't pay much attention to
Me and I wasn't looking to strike up a conversation at this point, the 
Psychotic break had worked so far and I wasn't going to break character
Until I got back to that crummy apartment across the street from 
Georgia Tech University. 

The train goes up on the ramp and runs its course
through the dense green Atlanta trees and hills, weaving around the
Buckhead mansions and continuing down into the grittier mid-town areas
Then we pull into the mid-town stations just two stops North of 
Braves Stadium and at this point I would've robbed any motherfucker on that
Train for just one pickled duck egg. I was on a mission I tell you. In those
Days we didn't have iPhones or GPS or palm pilots or maps other than the
Little brochure you get from the Subway station so I get off the train
Walk the full mile due west to my crummy apartment built into the side of
This house. I cracked open the door. Place smelled like Szechuan garlic or
Something like that. Jensen was home. I went to my room, dropped off
My bag, jumped in the shower, washed up and came back outside. Jensen was at
The kitchen table and He's got some sort of rice and chicken thing goin on and at this
Point 

I popped the question, "WHEN CAN I GET SOME OF THEM PICKLED DUCK EGGS" and the guy, his name was Jensen (and I believe his Mandarin name was Chengbao-steamed bun). 

A silence fell upon the room. 

The whir of the fan became more noticeable. The table he was sitting at was a fold-out thing with four legs and
Two chairs and I was leaning up against the other
Chair the one closest to my side of the flat. 

The chair squeaked with rust from the Reagan era. 

He looked up from the bowl of rice, a clear
Pyrex quality bowl and said, "IN THE FRIDGE, THIRD SHELF, OPEN THE CRISPER
AND ITS BEHIND THE ICEBERG LETTUCE. DO NOT TOUCH THE ICEBERG LETTUCE."

Never in my life had I been given such clear instructions. 

So I stopped
Leaning on that rusty chair and I opened the fridge, it was yellowed with
Age and there was some "secretions" coming from the side, the part where
The door presses up against he knob that turns off the lights when you
Close it. I opened the crisper. The pickled duck eggs were in a semi-
Translucent container with some Mandarin script and a cartoon yellow duck,
And at the top in Roman script it read "Pickled duck Egg (Best Quality)"
You wouldn't believe it if I showed you but the first week I was down there
I scoped out this grocery store around the way and then I picked up the
Same set of eggs in "Medium Quality" and it was a disappointment. You
Could taste the shame in those eggs. Those ducks were like the C-list
slot but they looked dirty and they tasted dirty and if you had too many
Of them, you ran the risk of getting a reportable infection. So at this
Point I grab the carton of eggs and a bowl and a knife and spoon from the
Drawer next to the sink and I dish out a couple of them and then set down
In the rusty chair opposite to Jensen who is still munching on the rice
And the Szechuan garlic chicken and what have you. I took on elite of the
Purple duck egg and chewed on it and Jensen looks up and says, 

"ITS BETTER WITH RICE, THERE'S RICE IN THE COOKER, TAKE SOME." 

I left the bowl
On the table and I walked up to the counter top by the stove and unplugged
The rice cooker an d brought the whole lot of it down to the table and
Used the flat rice serving spoon to dish out enough to cover both of the
Eggs in the bowl and resumed eating them. We didn't say anything from that
Point on and then I went back to my room. Thought about the day and the
Train station and the route back home. Went to bed, forgot about calling
The Asian chick I met in the library last weekend. 

Woke up in the morning
And had a missed text message from a new contact, Charlene was her name,
The image popped back into my head, she was the Asian girl from last
Weekend and the text message on my Motorola flip-phone said, "HEY CHAZ, WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR DINNER LAST NIGHT? - CHARLENE."

I lay there for a second
And typed, 

"PICKLED DUCK EGG. WILL PICK YOU UP FOR BREAKFAST."

Then I jumped in the car and took Charlene for breakfast at the diner across
The street.

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