The. Best. Dinner. Ever.

You know how sometimes, when you’re in the middle of an awesome experience, you have moment of recognition when you realize that you’re a part of something really cool?
When you mentally step outside of the experience, become an observer, and tell yourself, “Wow, I’m going to remember this for the rest of my life?”

More often than not, these epiphanies don’t happen during particularly momentous or significant events; they happen when we least expect them: laughing with friends in the car, getting ready for a night out on the town, or just sitting around the table for a meal.

This happened to me the other night at dinner. Two friends from Dalian were in town—Jess and her boyfriend, Rob—and we’d decided to grab some dumplings with our friend, Allie, from a little restaurant by my house. Now, mind you, this restaurant is exceedingly small, i.e., it has one table inside its tiny confines. Upon entering, we immediately noticed that the lone table was already occupied by a very loquacious Chinese man and a stoic monk, waiting for their dumplings and chatting.

As soon as they saw us enter, the restaurant’s owners—two exceedingly sweet and gracious women who have since become my BFFs—immediately invited us to pull up a chair with the two men. As we hesitantly took our seats at the table, the loquacious man pulled out two bottles of intense Chinese liquor and set them in the middle of the table. He then gathered four cups, and placed them ceremoniously in front of each of us. It was at this moment that I realized that this was going to be an interesting meal.

“Ganbei!” cried the man dramatically. (In China, this means: drink every last drop of alcohol remaining in your glass. You must do it. There really is no polite way to say no to a ganbei invitation).

So, we’re all looking at each other with amused, slightly unsure expressions. We weren’t really in the mood to drink tonight. How to refuse this invitation tactfully….

It always helps to have a monk around to diffuse awkward alcohol-related social situations. “I apologize for this man,” the monk said to us in Chinese. “He is very drunk. You do not have to drink with him.”

So, we sat back and let the man get progressively drunker while we chatted with the monk and the owners.

Pretty normal thus far. Until the drunk man decided that he was a kung fu master. And subsequently decided that Rob was going to be his kung fu apprentice.

“Watch this,” the man said, as he positioned Rob’s arms at awkward angles and grasped his wrists.

“Hiiiya!” And with a melodramatic kung fu-esque squeal, he karate-chopped Rob’s arm. Multiple times.

“Give it a rest! Give it a rest!” the monk said, disentangling the man’s arms from Rob’s.

But Rob was a great sport about it, and humored the man’s delusionary conviction that he was a kung fu master throughout the remainder of the meal.

Little did we know that the best was yet to come.

As the dumplings arrived, the man started singing. Well, it wasn’t really singing; it was more of a loud, drunken effort to recreate a melodious Chinese tune. And he wouldn’t stop. Despite the hilarity of listening to this man butcher some traditional Chinese song, we decided that we should sing our own song.

I started by offering up my best rendition of what little I knew of the Chinese national anthem. It always gets a laugh, so why not? So, with my best imitation of a proud, military-esque baritone, I started singing. “Rise upppppp! We are not willing to be slaves anymoreeeeee…!”

The man loves it. So does the monk. And the owners. After breaking into hysterics over the silly foreigner who’s singing the national anthem, the drunken man decides to join in and finish off our patriotic performance. Awesomeee.

But, not to be outdone, Jess, Rob, Allie, and I convened a quick meeting, and decided to counter with a stirring rendition of Aladdin’s “A Whole New World.”

Oh, yes. We brought Disney to the table.

So picture this: four foreigners belting out Aladdin at the top of our lungs in a small dumplings restaurant, the monk and owners clapping their hands to the beat, and the drunken man interjecting with random, incongruous, and pitchy hums to “go along” with the song.

It was at this moment that I suddenly stepped outside of the experience and realized, Wow, I’m going to remember this forever. This is amazing.