i’m not sure why, but riding the elevator here at PSR suddenly recalled a random memory from my childhood. the setting: Hong Kong island. i was about eight years old at the time and we had gone to eat at Maxim’s, my extended family’s favorite neighborhood restaurant. we had just finished eating when one of my aunts asked me in Chinese if i wanted to go to the bathroom…she said if i had to go “#2″ she could take me to the bathroom. of course she used the direct Chinese translation of “#2″ and i, in my childhood stupidity THOUGHT she was talking about ascending to the second floor. my head was instantly filled with the vision of the second floor being this huge toystore or something to that effect. filled with excitement, i eagerly accepted her offer and spent the next few seconds repeating the phrase “yay! i’m going the second floor!” over and over again in my head. i gleefully followed my aunt until she stopped in front of the bathrooms. she pointed to the men’s bathroom and told me to go inside. in shock and disappointment i instantly realized that she had said “#2″ in reference to defecation…not visiting the structural manifestation of my wildest dreams. dejected and saddened, i went inside and stared at the floor for a minute or so, then went back outside so my aunt didn’t think i was a retard for not knowing that she meant “go to the bathroom”. *sigh*