From about age 10 to 12 I harboured a secret fantasy about dim sum carts.
I wanted to hijack one.
Not to serve people, don’t be ridiculous. Obviously to ride one around the Chinese restaurant, flitting past the round tables laden with ceramic bowls and golden colored table cloths, even push it down an alley of the modestly sized Chinatown of Calgary to see what would happen.
At that age I only had one Chinese friend (in a predominantly Caucasian town as Calgary, this equates to a high number) and we use to plot about racing carts down the street of a quiet, suburban neighbourhood, to rankle homeowners who preened over their lawns with those high powered mowers and refinished the exterior in white siding, so blinding it hurt your eyes to glance at it.