We were sitting in Hunan’s, a Chinese restaurant in Arcata, California. At the bottom of the menu, I saw something that puzzled me.
Holding up the menu, I pointed at the words, asking Cathy, “Does ‘no message,’ mean there’s no fortune in the cookies, or something?”
She looked at me, studying my face to see if I was serious. It didn’t take her long to figure out that I was really sincere about what I was asking.
“That doesn’t mean ‘message,’ she responded.
“Yeah,” I argued, “that’s the abbreviation for the word, ‘message.’”
Cathy smiled, “M-S-G means monosodium glutamate, not ‘message.’”
She had to excuse herself from the table for a few minutes in order to regain her composure. I could not help hearing her in the women’s room, laughing.