Chicken Chow Mein

Son Steve writes...

Let me start by saying I hate Chinese food. Why I hate Chinese food is a long story that started with bare feet and ended with “the Hamlin curse”.

When we first moved to Kansas in August of 1972 our house wasn’t ready for us to move into so we stayed at the Holiday Inn in Lawrence for a few days. Like most motels there was a restaurant in the parking lot. I don’t know the name of the restaurant, I think my mind might be blocking as often happens when the brain wants to forget a particularly traumatic event.

Anyway it was summer and like most kids I didn’t like wearing shoes in the summertime, this isn’t the stinky feet story, that is for another time. So when we went to the restaurant for dinner that evening I was barefoot. Upon seeing that I had no shoes the waitress told my parents “I can’t serve him because he doesn’t have shoes on.” I remember my mom saying “a five year old kid you have to be kidding”. She wasn’t.

So we go around the table making our order and I ordered Chicken Chow Mein. While we waited for our food mom took me back to the room to get a pair of shoes. So back I went with shoes on, problem solved, or so I thought.

At this point in the story I think I should explain what the Hamlin curse is because I think this is where it all started. Whenever I go out to eat with other people, it can be one other person or it can be 50 it doesn’t matter, something always goes wrong. Some incidents are worse than others ranging from a whole table of us not being served at a Christmas party to getting Sprite instead of water. The only constant is that something always goes wrong. It happens so often that I don’t even get upset anymore.

Anyway back to 1972, we went back to the restaurant with shoes on and joined the family for dinner. Soon everyone’s order showed up and everyone began eating, everyone that is except for me. No chicken chow mein to be found anywhere. “Um excuse me miss, my son didn’t get his order.” I brought you everything that you ordered. “um, no you didn’t, he ordered chicken chow mein.” Well I didn’t turn it in because he didn’t have shoes on.

That was the moment that I no longer liked Chinese food. Everyone ate, I watched and waited for chicken chow mein. Everyone finished their meal, no chicken chow mein. Everyone left to go back to the room (except me and mom) no chicken chow mein. We finally gave up on the chicken chow mein and went back to the room.

And with that the Hamlin curse was born.
To this day I have not ordered nor eaten chicken chow mein, and I have not had a meal out with other people where something didn’t go wrong.