Time For Take-Out

It was playoff season for our Golden State Warriors and my family of die-hard Warriors fans already had our plans for dinner. It was time for take-out. It was simply a tradition. My mom would usually cook a meal for our family, but we all knew that everyone, including my mom, needed an equal opportunity to watch the game. So, we considered our options. Would it be Chinese? Korean? American? Thai? My parents looked at me and my sister, as usual, the "picky" eaters of the family, to determine the fate of our meal. Since she was visiting from college, I gave her total control over the decision. So, she decided she wanted Kickin' Crab. 

With excited spirits and bellies of hunger, we called to order. My mom grabbed her phone ordered their special cajun seasoned bags of seafood–crawfish, shrimp, mussels, and clams–half-pound each, all freshly prepared with a combination of spicy, sweet, and tangy flavors. To compliment, we added in a side of fried calamari rings, cajun seasoned fries, and garlic noodles. It was perfect.

As my mom drove out with the role of picking up the food, my sister and I took our own trip to make a quick boba tea run before the game started. It was another tradition. We order take-out to relieve our mom from the stress of cooking and we top it off with boba tea to relieve ourselves when the game gets too close in score.

We all returned home and preparation began. My mom quickly unpacked the bags of takeout and organized the trays of seafood and sides. My sister and I ran back and forth from the kitchen and the dining table to set up the disposable dining ware (because no one wanted to wash the dishes after the game, of course) of paper plates, plastic utensils, and piles of napkins to prepare for the finger-food feast. Once everything was set up, we all dove right into the dinner table, competing for the two chairs that face the television screen for the perfect view of the pregame. My sister and I successfully claimed these thrones and our parents sat across the table as we began to eat. The "Can you pass this? Can you pass that?" conversation had started, followed by the questions of, "How is it? Good?". Arms were all crossing over as we reached for the hot foods. Ten minutes had passed and the dinner table was a mess as we rushed our eating to get whatever food we could get into our stomachs before jump ball. Fries were on the loose. Noodles were crawling all over. But above all, mouths were full and the pangs of hunger were satisfied.

The pregame clock was winding down and the final bites were being taken. My family grasped for handfuls of napkins to get a quick clean for their oily hands as I brought the boba tea to the table. Drinks in hand, we made our way to the family room to once again compete and claim for the best seats to watch the game. I lunged for the recliner as I watched my sister leap for a cozy sectional corner. My dad settled in his favorite square on the couch that perfectly aligned with the screen as my mom joined him. Our meal had come to a close as we sat in the comforts of the family room cushions, ready to watch the thrilling game. Sure, the traditional playoff season meal had ended for the night, but of course, the tradition would once more repeat itself for the next playoff game.