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ankhlesbian · 6 years

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FE Rarepair Week: Day 2

Prompt: Longing, for @ferarepair-week

Fandom: FE Fates

Pairing: Velouria/Soleil

AO3 Link: Here

Length: ~2k

Title: Opposites Attract

Soleil, star of her high school's lacrosse team, finds herself head-over-heels for Velouria, someone way out of her normal social circle, and definitely out of her league. But this is high school: anything can happen, and Soleil's unorthodox courting method may just pay off...

(aka I tried to write angsty Soleil and then it lasted for like one scene)

“She’s so perfect,” Soleil sighs, slamming her locker shut and leaning against it mournfully. “She’d never want to talk to me!”

Caeldori switches her sweaty practice shirt for a clean one and wiggles a finger at her, disapproving. “She doesn’t even know you, there’s no way she hates you. You have to actually make a move before you say things like that.”

Soleil crosses her arms. “But what could I do? I’ll probably just embarrass myself. She’s goth, right? I’m just a dumb jock.”

Caeldori rolls her eyes. “Literally only you think like that. As long as you ask her out properly, I’m sure she’d say yes.” Caeldori’s eyes are sparkling, surely thinking about some grand romantic gesture. Soleil’s seen her reading enough of her cliché romance novels to know what Caeldori considers the “proper” way to ask someone out.

“Maybe I’ll leave notes in her locker.” Soleil says, choosing to ignore Caeldori. Caeldori secures her lacrosse stick onto her bookbag and turns to leave the locker rooms. Soleil follows suits.

“You could leave flowers!” Caeldori suggest brightly. Soleil opens her mouth to protest, because what goth girl wants a locker full of flowers, but the flowers she saw on the way home from school recently spring to mind.

“That might not actually be a bad idea.”

Caeldori huffs, swinging around. Soleil has to duck to avoid the handle of her lacrosse stick as she turns. “I’m full of good ideas! Especially on the field. Maybe if you’d listen to me instead of daydreaming about Velouria, we’d—”

Soleil lunges forward, slapping her hand over Caeldori’s mouth, furiously looking back and forth down the hallway to detect any eavesdroppers. It’s empty, thankfully.

“Don’t say her name!” She hisses. Caeldori pushes her hand away with disgust, wiping at her mouth.

“Not even our teammates are around. Don’t interrupt your captain. As I was saying—” Soleil lets the familiar lecture wash over her, focusing instead on her master plan for wooing Velouria.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Soleil watches with bated breath from around the corner as Velouria approaches her locker. She’s wearing her usual combination of black and red, contrasting with her silver hair. She’s truly breathtaking, and Soleil can’t help but swoon just a little.

The girl wrinkles her nose as she swirls her lock, and when she opens her locker she’ll see a black rose, taped to a note. She’d pulled out her best calligraphy, hoping it would be distinguishable from her usual scrawl in case Velouria decides to do any detective work.

Velouria unfolds the note carefully, and then scowls. Soleil’s heart drops. Then, oddly enough, Velouria holds the note, rose and all, to her nose and sniffs deeply. Her head turns, eerily, in Soleil’s direction. She ducks back behind the corner, palms sweating. There’s no way Velouria suspects her. That would be absurd. But what if she comes this way?

Soleil’s eyes dart around the hallway. School hasn’t started yet, and there’s plenty of people milling around their open lockers.

“Out of the way! Emergency happening here!” She shoves some poor soul aside, and crams herself into their locker, for once thankful for her short stature. She slams the door shut. “Just play along,” she whispers to the bewildered face peering in at her. Her reputation must come in handy, because her accomplice obeys wordlessly.

She peers out through the slits, holding her breath. After a few seconds, she sees distinctive black combat boots passing by. She sighs in relief and bangs on the inside of the locker door.

“Okay, you can let me out now.” The door swings open and she crawls out, dusting herself off casually like she didn’t just do something extremely weird. “Thanks!”

After that close call, she’s careful to not stick around after slipping the note and rose into Velouria’s locker. It’s been a week since she’s started, and she’s pretty satisfied with her progress. Maybe after another week or two she’ll try talking to Velouria, like, in person.

She’s in a good mood after lacrosse practice, humming merrily to herself as she exits the locker room.

“We need to talk.” Says an ominous voice from the shadows.

“Gah!” Soleil jumps, hands going for her lacrosse stick. From the darkness of the hallway steps the last person she expected to see here.

“Velouria? I mean, uh, who are you?” Velouria’s arms are crossed. She’s very clearly unimpressed.

“You know who I am. Unless you’ve been leaving flowers in my locker for the past week on accident.”

“How’d you even know that was me?” She’s never been very good at lying, so she concedes defeat.

“I have my ways,” Velouria declares mysteriously. It’s very goth of her, and extremely cool. “So.”

“So.” repeats Soleil, unsure of what happens next. IS there an expected response to this?

“So,” Velouria prompts.

“So?” Soleil says again, confused.

“So…” Velouria coughs imploringly. “You must have been leaving those in my locker for a reason.” In the dim lighting, Soleil can just barely make out Velouria’s face. Are her cheeks… pink? She’s blushing? Soleil grins, and attempts to turn up the charm.

“Well, I thought they were an appropriate gift for you. Just as beautiful as you are. I figured I should woo you proper before asking you on a date.”

Velouria nods approvingly, trying to stay calm even though Soleil can tell she’s delighted. If she was a dog, her tail would be wagging. “Very well. I accept your offer.”

Soleil’s bouncing off the walls by the time they exchange phone numbers and arrange a time and place. She bursts back into the locker room, crashing into Caeldori to give her a hug.

“It worked! You’re a genius!”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

That Saturday, Soleil finds herself waiting nervously outside of the mall. She’s in her best outfit, one that goes with her pink hair, and has her hands tucked into the pockets of her letterman jacket so that no one can see them shaking. She’s cool, she’s suave, the ladies love her, she’s the star of the lacrosse team, she’s got this.

“Hey.”

Soleil jolts. She must really be out of it, because Velouria’s staring down at her with a raised eyebrow. Actually, wait a second. She glances down, and yep, Velouria’s wearing a different pair of boots. These ones have a heel, giving her another good two inches on Soleil.

“Hey. Let’s go in! How’s your day been?” She enters chatterbox mode out of habit, but Velouria doesn’t seem to mind. She keeps up gamely, usually offering one word responses or even a sentence or two.

They enter the mall, walking around aimlessly. It’s the only mall in town, so it’s not like there’s anything they’ve never seen before here. Window shopping is always fun, and she discovers that Velouria has a soft spot for dogs when they pass the window of a Build-A-Bear. The other girl trails off in the middle of a sentence as they pass, her gaze lingering on the wolf plushie on display in the window.

“Should we go in?” Soleil teases, though her dad did give her some money for this date, and she’d be more than willingly to spend it on a stuffed animal.

“No. Why would you ask that? I just saw some dust,” Velouria says quickly. Soleil giggles.

“Your tough goth girl image is safe with me.”

“Speaking of that…” Velouria points to an upcoming store. Soleil freezes.

“You want to go in?” It’s a scary place, one Soleil, as a self-proclaimed prep-adjacent jock, has never stepped foot in. The walls are dark, stacked from floor to ceiling with shirts plastered with eerie images and unfamiliar characters. Everything seems to be either black or red. It’s… Hot Topic.

Velouria seems pleased, poking thoughtfully through the merchandise. Soleil may dye her hair, but the man with green hair by the cash register is giving her the creeps. The things she does for love.

“I can get you something. If you want.” It takes all her bravery to ask, doing her best not to look too closely at the sharp accessory Velouria’s holding. To her surprise, Velouria just laughs at her, smiling softly.

“I just wanted to see if you’d agree to come in, I don’t actually need anything. You’re certainly out of place.” The other customers are giving her the stink eye, that’s for sure.

Soleil puffs out her chest. “And you’re certainly devious. I’m making you look at athletic wear next.”

She must have a weak spot for Velouria, though, because instead they end up buying ice cream.

“We should eat outside. It’s a beautiful day!” Soleil declares, scooping up an enthusiastic spoonful of her cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Hmmmm,” Velouria says, licking at her cone of coffee flavored ice cream thoughtfully. “But it’ll melt.”

“You better eat fast then.” She pulls out her secret weapon. “There’s a dog park out back, you know.” Velouria caves, and outside they go. It’s not actually that warm out, but the sun is shining.

They end up acquiring a frisbee from a dog owner who isn’t paying enough attention to what their pet is doing. Velouria is clearly enamored by the dogs, crouching down to pet them immediately, unconcerned with touching the damp ground. She even makes pathetic, albeit they endearing, attempts at throwing the frisbee for a lively lab.

“I’ve got this. Just watch!” Soleil takes the frisbee from her and winds up. Lacrosse players have excellent arms, and the frisbee goes flying. The dog barks happily as it chases it, jumping over the dogs in its path.

“I suppose sports are good for something, after all.” Soleil holds up her right arm, flexing the bicep proudly. Nothings really visible under the thickness of her jacket, but it’s the principle of the gesture that counts.

“If you want to see what else these guns can do, you could always come cheer me on at a game.”

Velouria rolls her eyes. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I’d look terrible in a cheerleader outfit.”

Soleil grins cheekily, giving Velouria a once-over. “I dunno, I think you’d look great in one.” Velouria blushes, turning her attention back to the dogs.

Velouria tires quickly, probably due to her lack of athletic activity and her dark clothing. They settle underneath a tree, and Soleil tentatively takes her hand. It’s damp from sweat and dog slobber, and kind of sticky from the ice cream, but Soleil has no complaints.

Five o’clock comes all too soon, and her dad texts her that he’s in the parking lot.

They stand up, still holding holds, and face each other. Soleil smiles up at her, gripping her hands a little tighter.

“I had fun. A lot of fun! We should do this again.”

“It went surprisingly well.”

“Hey!”

“You’re doing a great job of melting my cold, cold heart.” Velouria amends, a smile tugging on her lips.

“You’re just a big softie.” Soleil scoffs, sticking her tongue out. “You don’t have to act all aloof.”

“Not around you, I guess. You’ve figured out my secret.” She deadpans.

They fall silent, staring at each other. Soleil bites her lip. Should she kiss her? Is a first date too soon for that? Should she let Velouria make the first move? Maybe a kiss on the lips is just too much? The cheek then, maybe. Or…

Soleil raises their joined hands to her lips, gently kissing the back of Velouria’s hand.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday?” She asks hopefully.

Velouria nods, eyes bright.

“I’ll text you.”

And then they part ways. Soleil makes her way back to the car with a goofy grin on her face. Her lips taste faintly like coffee. For once, she can’t wait for Monday to come.

#ferarepairweek #velouria/soleil #soleil/velouria #soleil (fe)#velouria (fe)#it writes #feif

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Here’s What Eating Out Might Look Like When Restaurants Reopen

Expats gather outside bars and restaurants on Peel street in Soho

Masks, temperature checks, and awkward bar vibes — one writer’s recent night out in Hong Kong could be a glimpse at America’s future

On a recent Friday night in Hong Kong, two police vans idled outside an upscale Italian restaurant on Wyndham Street. Only a few months earlier, their presence might have been an ominous sign that a unit of anti-protest riot cops was in the area, tear gas and pepper spray at the ready. But as is the case for much of daily life here since January, Hong Kong has moved from a state of protest to pandemic, and that night, instead of an armed “raptor” force wearing dark green fatigues and gas masks, the vans discharged a group of what looked like ordinary patrolmen in simple short-sleeve uniforms and surgical masks.

The officers had mustered in one of the city’s busiest nightlife districts to enforce the local government’s ongoing social distancing measures in response to COVID-19, many of which were first announced in late March. They stood outside on the sidewalk like nuns chaperoning a Catholic school dance, armed with rulers, ready to stalk the floor and push guests apart to “make room for the Holy Spirit.” Except in this case the school gymnasium was a bar full of consenting adults, the rulers were rolls of measuring tape, and the Holy Spirit, I assume, was the distance required for gravity to pull down tiny drops of spittle from the air between us.

As cities and states across the U.S. begin to float possible dates for reopening the closed sectors of their economies, many diners and hospitality industry leaders are asking what that next phase might look like for restaurants. Because Hong Kong — along with other Asian cities like Seoul and Taipei — has largely succeeded in controlling outbreaks, and allowed its restaurants to stay open throughout the pandemic, some are asking if the present state of dining here could be a glimpse at the future for America.

Can diners in Taipei, Hong Kong, Korea, China send me photos of what it looks like in restaurants. How the seating is set up? Are all the servers wearing masks and gloves. What are guests wearing? If anyone works in kitchens how are you dealing w new protocol?

— Dave Chang (@davidchang) April 16, 2020

And so, with the number of newly reported COVID-19 cases in Hong Kong staying firmly in single digits over the preceding few days, I traded house socks for chukka boots, slipped on a surgical mask, and did what many in the U.S. have been longing to do for weeks. I went out for dinner.

I chose Frank’s in part because it makes for a useful case study of the current regulatory climate in Hong Kong. Bars have been ordered closed, but not restaurants; Frank’s is a split-level operation, with more of a bar setup downstairs and a sit-down restaurant upstairs. The mandatory bar closure has meant that almost all of Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong’s famous party district, has been shut down; Frank’s sits on the edge of LKF, sandwiched between it and the equally busy but more restaurant-heavy SoHo neighborhood.

Although popular with Cantonese locals for workweek lunch, at night, Frank’s is often filled with expat residents drinking Negronis and ordering the veal. Expats have come under special scrutiny recently, after a wave of travelers rushing home to the city from hot spots abroad brought new cases back with them only a few weeks ago.

Normally, it would cost me less than $1 to take the subway or minibus from my house to Wyndham Street, but to minimize time spent in small, enclosed, crowded spaces, I splurged $6.50 on a cab. At the entrance to Frank’s, I was stopped by a host and was confronted with the first in a series of small obstacles to eating out: the temperature check.

Well before COVID-19, it would’ve been hard to go a day in Hong Kong and not see someone wearing a mask. They’re common enough that if you met a friend on the street and someone asked you later if the friend had worn one, you might not remember. In restaurants, I’d seen staff wearing masks from time to time too, though almost never in more upscale situations. But at Frank’s — as with every other restaurant I checked in on — all staff wore the same thin, blue surgical masks Hong Kongers had been wearing on the street for years.

While Hong Kong’s pre-existing mask culture somewhat prepared me, in the U.S., it might have felt a little like a mass text had gone out on Halloween, where the in-joke was that instead of asking everyone to dress in a sexy costume, every costume would be a surgeon: Surgeon servers. Surgeon cooks. A surgeon DJ. Even having lived with regular mask culture for years now — and among their near-ubiquity for weeks — seeing every single person who handled my food and drink wear the tell-tale sign of medical caution was jarring.

Still, not long into the meal, as the unnerving feeling began to subside, it was quickly replaced by communication issues. I’ve heard a lot of people lament the non-verbal communication lost behind masks, the missed smiles or bitten lips, but more difficult for me were the few times I couldn’t understand what my server was trying to ask me. He was enunciating clearly at a volume well above the ambient noise, but without seeing half his face, he may as well have held his hand behind his back and asked me, “How many fingers?” “Sure,” I replied the first time this happened, and the result was a side of squash I didn’t think I’d ordered. (It was great.)

After dinner, I picked my own mask up off my knee, where it had remained throughout the meal, and headed downstairs for a cocktail. I ordered at the bar, got my drink at the bar, and then immediately had to walk away from the bar and stand against the far wall. The bar itself had no stools, and featured printouts explaining that customers could not hang out at the bar. In a total reverse of the usual crush to buy drinks, the few guests in the quarter-full room were clustered in small groups against the far wall with me. Only they weren’t with me at all.

When you sit at the bar you are part of a continuum, long or short, curved or straight, finite or infinitely looped, that counts everyone seated anywhere along it as also at the bar. Downstairs at Frank’s, we were all standing up while observing social distance. Me trying to join any one group would have been the awkward equivalent of pulling up a seat to a table full of unsuspecting strangers upstairs. Not having the stomach for that, I downed my drink, put my money on the bar and left.

Police on Wyndham Street prepare to enforce social distancing rules on Friday night

Pens used to fill out health declaration forms at Yardbird HK are individually sterilized after each use

Outside, I walked back past the cops and did a quick loop through an eerily empty Lan Kwai Fong, before wandering back up towards Soho to see how restaurants were doing there. Turning up Peel Street, I was only half-surprised to see several large gaggles of maskless expats drinking out in front of restaurants on the dead-end road. You know that particular genre of sports bloopers where an athlete begins celebrating right on the verge of winning, only to have victory snatched away by someone actually digging for those last few inches? I’ve gotten some good schadenfreude out of those scenes, but with only one new case of COVID reported in Hong Kong the day before my night out, these people felt like the last link on our whole city’s relay team, and their confidence made me nervous.

I moved on, and tried to stop in a wine bar that sells enough charcuterie, cheese, and other no-cook food to maybe pass as a restaurant, but the man at the front desk of its building told me that the entire floor was closed. I stopped into the lobby of a high rise on Wellington Street, hoping to finally try the “martini 3-ways” at VEA Lounge, the cocktail bar one flight down from Vicky Cheng’s French-Chinese tasting menu restaurant, VEA, but the button for the 29th floor didn’t work at all.

Then I remembered that Yardbird Hong Kong had reopened. It closed for 14 days starting March 23, after word of infected diners at another restaurant group got out. But it was back in business now, albeit under a new regime of health and safety measures. There was a wait, as usual, but nowhere to do the waiting. The front room, where I’ve spent several past pre-dinner hours nursing a cocktail or two while my name moved up the host’s list, had been converted from a mostly standing-room bar area into a second sit-down-only dining room. Anyone not yet seated would have to wait outside. I gave my phone number and went for a walk around the block.

When I did finally get in, the host took my temperature and asked me to sign a form declaring that in the last 14 days I had not been outside of Hong Kong, hung out with anyone outside of Hong Kong, and/or had COVID-19 or symptoms of COVID-19. I also gave my name, phone number, and email address, so that should anyone present that night later test positive, they could contact me. I’d had to give the same personal information at Frank’s as well, so that now, despite paying cash at both venues, there was a point-by-point record of my night just floating out there in the ether, my American right-to-privacy preferences be damned.

Diners at Yardbird sit four to a table max, in a dining room at 50 percent capacity by law

The host told me she had never had problems from anyone about the health form, but there had been larger groups who got annoyed at having to separate into tables of four or fewer. On my own, I was led to a two-top in the middle of the back dining room, ordered a cocktail, and read on my phone.

At 50 percent capacity, the place was still lively, but even if the kinetic feeling of the restaurant was still there, some of the potential energy for a solo diner had been stripped away. I’m usually fairly confident being out on my own, but something about sitting so far from another table — even an empty one in one of my favorite Hong Kong restaurants — was uncomfortable.

Steam rose in the open kitchen, swirling past a flurry of masked chefs shuffling around their stations. What felt like more servers than I can ever remember seeing on that floor swarmed about the dining room. And everywhere there were people eating. Everywhere, except of course within about six feet on all sides of me. If my distant neighbors and I had shared a brief conversation before I finished my drink, decided there was no point in trying to stay out anymore, and headed home, it most likely would’ve consisted of an exaggerated wave and a pantomimed shout, as if we each occupied either side of an enormous cavern, and could never get much closer than we were already. It would’ve been mildly funny. And mostly true.

Andrew Genung is a writer based in Hong Kong and the creator of the Family Meal newsletter about the restaurant industry.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3eHzabl https://ift.tt/3apyZyk

Expats gather outside bars and restaurants on Peel street in Soho

Masks, temperature checks, and awkward bar vibes — one writer’s recent night out in Hong Kong could be a glimpse at America’s future

— Dave Chang (@davidchang) April 16, 2020

Police on Wyndham Street prepare to enforce social distancing rules on Friday night

Pens used to fill out health declaration forms at Yardbird HK are individually sterilized after each use

Diners at Yardbird sit four to a table max, in a dining room at 50 percent capacity by law

Andrew Genung is a writer based in Hong Kong and the creator of the Family Meal newsletter about the restaurant industry.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3eHzabl via Blogger https://ift.tt/3eDUheN

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Here’s What Eating Out Might Look Like When Restaurants Reopen added to Google Docs

Here’s What Eating Out Might Look Like When Restaurants Reopen

Expats gather outside bars and restaurants on Peel street in Soho

Masks, temperature checks, and awkward bar vibes — one writer’s recent night out in Hong Kong could be a glimpse at America’s future

Can diners in Taipei, Hong Kong, Korea, China send me photos of what it looks like in restaurants.

How the seating is set up?

Are all the servers wearing masks and gloves.

What are guests wearing?

If anyone works in kitchens how are you dealing w new protocol?

— Dave Chang (@davidchang) April 16, 2020

Police on Wyndham Street prepare to enforce social distancing rules on Friday night Pens used to fill out health declaration forms at Yardbird HK are individually sterilized after each use

Diners at Yardbird sit four to a table max, in a dining room at 50 percent capacity by law

Andrew Genung is a writer based in Hong Kong and the creator of the Family Meal newsletter about the restaurant industry.

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/4/21/21229650/what-eating-out-might-look-like-when-restaurants-reopen-coronavirus-impact

Created April 22, 2020 at 01:39AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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rodrigohyde · 6 years

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How an NBA referee trains to keep up with the world’s best athletes

The NBA has some of the most talented athletes on the planet. Night in and night out, players like LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, Kevin Durant, and Giannis Antetokounmpo pull off spectacular plays only few in the world can even imagine.

Referee Marc Davis has to keep up with all of them.

The veteran ref has worked more than 1,250 regular-season and playoff games during his 20-year career, including the NBA Finals and the All-Star Game. In his time, he's watched the sport transform from a big-man-dominated battle to a fast-paced, uptempo explosion of athleticism. Davis has had to adjust along with it.

[RELATED1]

“The pace has certainly increased a lot—as referees, we’re running four to five miles a night,” Davis tells Men’s Fitness. “It’s our job to be in the best athletic condition that we can be. Our players are just so athletic—their movements and their ability to explode with power and speed—and we have to adjust with that and how we officiate. I focus on mobility in my training; I do a lot of bodyweight squats, and I sprint in the off-season at least a couple times per week.”

As a referee—or what Davis calls the “third team” on the court—officials have much more to do than just stand around and blow a whistle. They have to keep up with the game action, call fouls in an instant, and mind what’s going on everywhere the court—not just with whatever player has the ball. Factor in loud fans in packed arenas, and incensed coaches and players trying to make their cases on calls, and you have an idea what it takes to keep up.

More than anything, though, Davis would like to clear up what he sees as a common misconception among fans who imagine that refs like him just show up with his uniform and whistle five minutes before tip-off. Far from it. As with the players, game days are full days for NBA refs.

[RELATED2]

Davis’s workday routine can include a morning training session, reviewing previous games' foul calls with fellow officials, discussing rules interpretations, watching more film on upcoming teams, and an extensive pregame stretching routine. They then work the actual game, and even have to file post-game paperwork.

“The days can morph into each other,” Davis says. “We can be up until 3 a.m., finishing the game from the night before, then be on the first flight in the morning to the next city. It's a physically demanding job—traveling between time zones, different hotel rooms, and still having to perform that evening. Nobody really cares about how much sleep you got that night—you still need to call the game.”

The “grueling” schedule leaves little time for getting to the gym, but Davis does his best to squeeze in training sessions any chance he can. He keeps a list of workouts on his phone, broken down by length of time and type of workout (mobility, flexibility, lower-body strength, and agility).

“I attack my workout based on the amount of the time that I have, whether it’s 15, 30, or 45 minutes or longer,” Davis says. “Kettlebell work is great because you can use it for a lot of different areas, and it helps you stay mobile through your entire body. Being in shape, being physically ready, and physically able to perform at all times is a big part of being a successful official.”

[RELATED3]

Davis spoke with Men’s Fitness about how he works out to keep up with players like LeBron James, secrets about being a referee, how he finds time to train, and the loudest fans in the league.

Men’s Fitness: How do you keep yourself in shape? What does it take to keep up with such talented athletes like LeBron James and Russell Westbrook?

Marc Davis: My lower body is an important part of what I do. I do a lot of bodyweight squats, and I’m working on getting my pistol squat down. I do a lot of bodyweight lunges too, in all the directions—forward, sagittal, side, back—because they kind of mimic the movements we do on the court. I do use an exercise bike and use the rowing machine, and I use the VersaClimber when I have access to one.

What’s it been like watching the game change over all your years in the league?

The speed of play has really increased a lot over the last four to five years. It’s really amazing what our athletes can do. They’re so elegant in their movements, and their ability and athleticism is really being captured a lot by the way in which we officiate them.

One of the struggles that our younger players coming in...they say they're getting the rookie calls. But our guys come from college or come from pro leagues, and now they're playing against grown men. It takes younger players a while to adjust to that. They think they have to be stronger or more aggressive, but the reality is that they have to be more skillful and more agile to really perform at a high level in the end. So that's one of the biggest things that I've noticed in the trend over the last 15 years. I think that that's related to the betterment of the sport and why it's so popular right now.

[RELATED4]

To fans, it can seem like players and coaches often have a contentious relationship with referees. What’s it like interacting with them on a nightly basis?

Generally speaking, the relationships are way less contentious than the public would believe. They are not very contentious at all, actually. Are there times when they become contentious in the moment? Yes. But I've also seen the Collins twins take each other out on the court, too. So, in the competitive moment, are there sometimes where there some tension? Yes, but, generally speaking, I would be hard-pressed to come up with an individual player that I wouldn't be happy to see walking down the street.

All of it really is a relationship thing. No one’s running around saying ‘hey Mr. Ref,’ it’s always on a first-name basis. We’re all professionals. Steve Wilkes was a really good guy—one of my all-time favorite guys. Whether it’s Charles Barkley or Michael Jordan or LeBron James, it's all about individual relationships, and they're all relatively healthy.

Jason Miller / Getty

You’ve gotten into some fun back-and-forths with fans before. Which team has the loudest, most involved fans when you’re calling games?

The most knowledgeable fans, in terms of knowing when to boo and when to clap, although they never clap for a referee? [laughs] I'd say Madison Square Garden and Knicks fans. From a perspective of having the most knowledgeable fans, and being into the game, the Garden is the best. They're just really fans of basketball, and they're about to root hard for their Knicks and still be supportive of the athletes on the other team—of the great moves or the great skill, without crossing the line of being a Knicks fan. And the same holds true when they're getting after you: There's a strong sense that you've probably made a boo boo on the court [laughs].

NBA courtside seats make the games such an intimate event. It's probably the best ticket money can buy for a sporting event. I mean, you're right there on the floor. Some of our seats are adjacent to the coaches, sit right next to the coaches, right next to the TV announcers, or they're standing right next to a referee. It's a very intimate environment, and many of the people have been there forever. They don't give those seats up. It’s another relationship, but with the fans.

With the busy life of an NBA referee, how do you find time to train and go to the gym?

The life of an NBA referee is not quite as glamorous as it might appear on the outside [laughs]. I’ll say this: We know we are attached to an athletic event that has importance for these players, fans, and teams. And as such, we need to be in the best athletic condition that we can be. There’s a lot of down time and a lot of travel. We’re not 20-year-old young men—we're more mature gentlemen who have families and grandchildren on top of our NBA responsibilities.

From the perspective of our fitness, you don't have a lot of time to do it, so you have to be smart about finding times to get it in when you can. We’ve tried to carve out and consistently meet that time, even if it’s a short workout, just to make sure we’re always doing something. It can come quickly, and you have to adjust to your schedule.

Otto Greule Jr/NBAE via Getty Images

What are some of the workouts and exercises you use that are most effective in keeping you in shape and ready on the court?

I would say kettlebell work, I really enjoy that. I started to work on some Olympic moves lately, because I think you have to be mobile through your entire body. I am not trying to overhead squat 300lbs or anything like that, but I want to get everything in my spine and my ankles in a mobile position to where they can function.

My overall fitness goal kind of goes like this: I have an eighth grade son, so I'm just trying to make sure I can get him though the end of school and keep up with him.

[RELATED5]

What do refs do on game days that people don’t realize?

Every game day can be a long push. It's an entire day for the preparation from in the morning when you get up, and then you’re working the game into the night and dealing with post-game responsibilities, so it can be 2 or 3 a.m. before you get to bed.

I need to exercise as soon as I get up. Some guys have nagging injuries that they need to tend to before the next game. There can be pregame morning meetings. Getting to the arena, doing security briefings, making sure our communications with the replay officials are sound and working in order. Being on the same page is so important as an officiating crew. Even in pregame, we need time to get ourselves together. We have a stretching routine, a mobility routine, ankle taping, wraps and braces that have to be applied for some guys.

What do you do in the off-season to keep up with your fitness? Have you dealt with injuries or physical issues through the years?

Right now, I'm trying to be able to do a pistol squat on each leg, because as I've gotten older, I start to recognize some mobility issues that I'd like to overcome. I try to find myself a different exercise for each quarter of the year that I can't do, and then try to work on that for three or four months until I can do it and do it well. I did muscle-ups last year, and now I can do that.

The overhead squat was difficult because of my mobility. I always try and keep my mobility and flexibility going, because very few people consistently run four to five miles a night running one direction, looking over their shoulder [laughs]. I’ve had some issues arise with my spine mobility, so that’s something I've been working on. My ankle mobility is something I've been working on after a calf injury about five or six years ago. Little things pop up like that, and then I just try to focus on those things and get them as right as possible.

What advice do you have for guys who want to stay consistently in shape like you do?

Consistency matters. Doing something five, six days a week is much better than doing a whole lot once or twice. Stay accurate every day. Just do something daily—whether it’s 30 minutes, a five- or 10-minute workout, just get moving. Your body wants to move, and the more it moves, the better it moves. In our country now, just in our society now, there's very little physical activity that's required to be successful man. You're not moving cattle—you're riding on an airplane and then going to your hotel. My crew makes fun of me, but we always walk for an hour after lunch. It's cold, but so what? We need some fresh air.

[RELATED6]

Basketball

from Men's Fitness https://www.mensfitness.com/sports/basketball/how-nba-referee-trains-keep-worlds-best-athletes

#Men's Fitness

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egooksconnolly · 6 years

Text

How an NBA referee trains to keep up with the world’s best athletes

Referee Marc Davis has to keep up with all of them.

[RELATED1]

[RELATED2]

[RELATED3]

Davis spoke with Men’s Fitness about how he works out to keep up with players like LeBron James, secrets about being a referee, how he finds time to train, and the loudest fans in the league.

Men’s Fitness: How do you keep yourself in shape? What does it take to keep up with such talented athletes like LeBron James and Russell Westbrook?

What’s it been like watching the game change over all your years in the league?

[RELATED4]

To fans, it can seem like players and coaches often have a contentious relationship with referees. What’s it like interacting with them on a nightly basis?

Jason Miller / Getty

You’ve gotten into some fun back-and-forths with fans before. Which team has the loudest, most involved fans when you’re calling games?

With the busy life of an NBA referee, how do you find time to train and go to the gym?

Otto Greule Jr/NBAE via Getty Images

What are some of the workouts and exercises you use that are most effective in keeping you in shape and ready on the court?

My overall fitness goal kind of goes like this: I have an eighth grade son, so I'm just trying to make sure I can get him though the end of school and keep up with him.

[RELATED5]

What do refs do on game days that people don’t realize?

What do you do in the off-season to keep up with your fitness? Have you dealt with injuries or physical issues through the years?

What advice do you have for guys who want to stay consistently in shape like you do?

[RELATED6]

Basketball

Article source here:Men’s Fitness

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paul-doyle · 7 years

Text

From The Hills Of Northern Vermont, Bill Lee, Pitcher-Philosopher, Still Plays A Full Schedule

By Paul Doyle/The Hartford Courant

July 8, 2001

CRAFTSBURY, VT. - On a sunny afternoon in June, the Craftsbury town common is virtual Rockwell.

On one side of the common, a church sits atop the hills of northern Vermont. On the other side, children play in a schoolyard. A white gazebo stands on a sprawling lawn that is framed by tree-lined streets.

Amid the quaint New England scene, Bill Lee is on a roll. Holding a beer in one hand, wearing knee-high rubber fishing boots, a black T-shirt and cargo shorts, Lee sits on a folding chair next to the gazebo and recites his thoughts on everything from baseball in Cuba to life in Vermont. His references range from Ernest Hemingway to Buckminster Fuller as he sprinkles stories with anecdotes from his pitching career.

The man who calls himself a Roman Catholic Buddhist is very much in the moment, losing himself in his stream of thoughts.

That seems to happen when the camera is rolling. And on this day, a crew of documentary filmmakers that recently followed Lee on a trip to Cuba is filming him. The Boston-based crew is producing a film about Lee for PBS and is interviewing him in the town he has called home since 1988.

Leaning forward, sipping his beer and talking about Cuban culture, Lee speaks in front of a hand-held camera and a boom microphone. The scene seems surreal, yet no one stops to watch. Cars and trucks rumble past the common and no one slows to catch a glimpse of the gathering.

``The cameras just keep coming,'' says Lee's estranged wife Pamela, who is home while Bill holds court on the common. ``Same drill all the time. He takes them to the common. They film him at the baseball field. He might go to my daughter's school. Never ends.''

Current Events

It has been 19 years since he wore a major league uniform and even longer since he was entertaining New England sports fans as a member of the Red Sox, but Lee won't fade away. Every so often, his name appears in the news and he is ripe for a quote. The latest instance was the arrival of Don Zimmer's biography; Lee accused the former Red Sox manager of throwing the 1978 season.

When Lee reappears on the pop culture radar screen he reminds the world why he is such a compelling figure. An ex-jock who refuses to give up his game -- he continues to play baseball and softball (as a pitcher, DH and first baseman) in barnstorming games and senior leagues all over Canada and the United States -- Lee is still among the most intelligent and literate professional athletes.

Lee, 54, divides his time among several spots. Craftsbury (population 1,000) is home, but he can just as easily be found staying with friends in Florida or several spots in New England, or he could be in Montreal, western Canada, Washington State, California, Mississippi or Arizona. Camping, visiting family, playing baseball, signing autographs, giving interviews -- it's the nomadic life he has seemingly lived since he first donned a Red Sox uniform more than 30 years ago.

``I'm a man on the move,'' Lee says.

The beauty of Lee's life is its unpredictability. Each morning, he talks baseball on a Montreal radio station. Each Thursday, he tapes a baseball-related show for a Montreal TV station. On any given day he is speaking to sports reporters from all over the country, spewing his thoughts on the game.

But his depth of knowledge appeals to a diverse audience. How many former athletes attract a writer from The New Yorker and a film crew from PBS in the span of months?

Only Lee.

Spend a day with Lee and it's easy to understand the interest from the mainstream and literary media. You will hear rants about everything from the Red Sox to Vermont's civil union law. You will hear his philosophies on life as you tour the farms and rolling hills of northern New England. You will hear off-color jokes and watch an aging New England celebrity move among his neighbors without a hint of pretense.

But don't mistake this for an average day in Lee's life. There is no such thing.

In the morning, Lee spends a few hours with the PBS crew before returning home. He bickers with Pamela, whom he married in 1982 and is in the process of divorcing. He feeds his rooster and chickens, he attempts to complete a few household projects, he runs errands and he watches his daughter play tee ball.

He is pensive and serious. He is lively and gregarious. He tells jokes and stories and plans his next trip.

``This is home,'' Lee says, ``but I'm a nomad. This is my New England base. Catch me here or I'm off. There's always a game somewhere.''

Shopping With The Spaceman

As Lee enters a supermarket in Morrisville, which borders Craftsbury, heads turn. Shoppers stop, gaze at his boots and smile. A teenage girl who apparently knows Lee razzes him and asks if he's expecting a flood.

``Haven't you heard?'' Lee answers. ``The floods are coming. I'm ready ... are you?''

Inside the store, Lee stops at the bank and deposits a check. All five tellers are transfixed on Lee, who jokes about his shorts and boots and his search for someone to groom his lawn while he is on the road.

``Any of you girls interested?'' Lee says.

In four days, Lee will be playing in a baseball game in western Massachusetts before flying out of Bradley International Airport, bound for Winnipeg. He will spend about a month playing in a senior baseball league and living with his girlfriend in Calgary.

Lee says he must have enough money to last through July, since he's not sure when he will return to Vermont. When he receives a slip from the bank teller, Lee winces and studies his account balance. He stares at the ceiling, raises his index finger and recites numbers.

He closes his eyes and smiles.

``Cool,'' Lee says. ``More money than I thought. I'm all set. Maybe I can buy myself a new pair of pants.''

The bank tellers, hanging on Lee's every word, burst into collective laughter.

``You should stick with the boots ... very flattering,'' a teller says.

Pushing his carriage toward the produce aisle, Lee turns and waves. The bank tellers are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

``Those are my girls,'' Lee says. ``They love me.''

As Lee walks through the supermarket, he talks about his upcoming week in Craftsbury. Alternating between his various home projects and his pickup basketball games, Lee realizes he has busy week.

His primary concern: finding someone to tend to his home while he is away, since Pam will be moving to Georgia with their daughter Anna, 7. The divorce will be final in a matter of days and Lee will retain the Vermont home, which he built on 14 acres of land 13 years ago.

The divorce has been brewing for over a year, but it is now imminent and Lee will be forced to visit his daughter in Georgia. At home, Pam indicates Bill's schedule is a problem -- he is almost an absentee father because he is away so frequently.

His wayward life contributed to the end of his first marriage. As his career was winding down, Lee and his first wife, Mary Lou, separated in 1981 and she eventually moved to Mississippi. While Lee was living in Montreal, New Brunswick and eventually Vermont during the 1980s, his three children -- Michael, Andy and Caitlin -- were in Mississippi.

His grown children now live in Mississippi, California and Washington. He has a grandchild in Spokane, where Michael lives, and his aging parents live in the San Francisco area.

``I try to make a loop,'' Lee says. ``I'll be out in Calgary with my girlfriend. We'll spend a week in Spokane and see my grandson, we'll head down to my parents for a week, then I'll see my daughter and eventually be back up in Canada. I see everyone.''

Now, Anna will be in Georgia -- another state on the itinerary.

Simplicity Pattern

Through all of the traveling, Lee rarely stays at hotels. Many of his expenses are covered by organizations that ask him to speak or sign autographs, so his out-of-pocket expense is not great.

Which is necessary, since Lee prides himself on simplicity. He has a pension from baseball and derives income from his TV and radio appearances in Montreal. He also runs a fantasy camp in Florida each spring and is continually in demand for appearances throughout New England.

Just two weeks ago, he made an appearance in Bristol and played in an afternoon game at Muzzy Field.

``I'll go anywhere,'' Lee says. ``And I've never overcharged.''

But even with the various sources of income, Lee is not living an extravagant life. He says he earns just enough to live, and boasts of his self-reliance. He taps maple trees and sells the syrup. He saves scraps of wood and makes his own baseball bats. He raised his own chickens for food and often rants about living a life that has little impact on the environment.

After finishing his shopping -- steaks, a bottle of red wine, some Ben and Jerry's ice cream -- Lee squeezes his 6-foot-3 frame into a reporter's rented Toyota Corolla and is off to his next stop.

Why the compact car when he owns a perfectly functional Pathfinder? Lee says the Toyota burns less fuel and is better for the environment, so he sacrifices comfort for his principles.

``Any little thing we can do for the earth,'' Lee says. ``Nothing wrong with this car. It doesn't take a lot to make me happy. I'm a guy who doesn't need a lot. I really am.''

Yankee Mind-Set

Inside a store that sells farm and lawn supplies, Lee immediately notices an employee wearing a Yankees hat. Lee is also taken by the cage of chickens, which cost a mere $1.25 each.

``Give me two of the meat birds,'' Lee says.

The boy with the Yankees hat grabs a box and opens the cage.

``Which ones?'' he asks.

Lee is leaning against the counter and smiling. His grin widens and his eyes flicker.

``The ones with the big legs and no brains ... and the little Yankees hats on them,'' Lee says.

Lee bursts into laughter. He repeats the line and even asks where the little Yankees hats are as the kid pulls the chickens out of the cage.

``It keeps going, doesn't it?'' Lee says. ``It never ends. It all comes back to the Yankees. You can't make this stuff up.''

Back in the Corolla, more jokes follow. The punch line for one involves the resemblance between Yankees fans and various parts of the human anatomy.

Lee says he never tires of the rivalry between the Red Sox and Yankees. When Zimmer's book arrived in the spring, the calls to Vermont came from all over the country. Reporters were looking for a response from Lee, named by Zimmer as the one player he would never invite to his house for dinner.

First, Lee said he wouldn't go to Zimmer's house because he had no interest in seeing 1950s furniture.

Later, he said Zimmer was secretly working for the Yankees in 1978. Zimmer, Lee said, threw the '78 season and is now being repaid by George Steinbrenner as an employee-for-life with the Yankees.

Lee says he doesn't hate Zimmer. He says he has no respect for Zimmer as a manager and still harbors anger about being passed over during the stretch run of the '78 season.

But the private Lee is far more thoughtful than the flaky persona he projects for the sports media. Many of his outrageous quotes are thought out and he will defend them with compelling argument, but he admittedly says things for effect.

``I'm honest,'' Lee says. ``I'm an open book. But I've always been a good interview because I read a lot. I'm well-versed. I know what I'm talking about. I like giving my opinions and stirring it up a little bit. Nothing wrong with that.''

While he continues to fan the flames of the Yankee-Red Sox rivalry, he is really more tied to Montreal than Boston. He is visible throughout New England, but he has virtually no relationship with the Red Sox and jokingly said he was distraught when the team did not invite him to the recent 100th anniversary celebration.

He does, however, have a cordial relationship with Red Sox general manager Dan Duquette. He says Duquette has always been friendly -- or as friendly as he is capable of being.

``I think he's a little weird,'' Lee says. ``You know, he cuts his fingernails when you sit with him. He does this weird, bizarre stuff. His behavior is, like, strange. He kind of reminds me of Nosferatu, kind of a vampire-type guy. Like he comes out at night or something. A New England, Stephen King character. Just kind of weird.''

In the 1970s, Lee shook the baseball establishment when he said he sprinkled marijuana on his pancakes. Turns out, he was joking.

He compared Billy Martin and George Steinbrenner to Nazis. He went AWOL when the Red Sox traded his friend Bernie Carbo and he left the Expos when they released Rodney Scott.

And recently, he called Graig Nettles a Neanderthal.

``It all comes back to the Yankees,'' Lee says over lunch. ``I mean, that's my life. Look at the stuff that happens. The kid with the Yankees hat? It was too easy. It's just my life.''

Political Animal

Lee is very much at home in Vermont, a state that balances the traditional values of New England farmers with the radical politics of aging hippies. This is a state that elected socialist Bernie Sanders to congress and was the first to sanction same-sex marriage.

As Lee drives through Morrisville and Craftsbury, he points out the ``Take Back Vermont'' signs along the road. The signs represent the more conservative, anti-civil union faction in the state.

``Here we have the homophobic idiots in the state,'' Lee says. ``These are the people who live in trailers and vote for Bush because they think they'll get a tax break. Bush doesn't care about these people. Why don't they understand that?''

In 1988, Lee ran for U.S. president under the Rhinoceros Party banner in Canada. His platform: No borders, because the earth is a one-celled organism. And he was opposed to guns and butter (``They'll both kill you.'').

His political views are a reason he will probably always keep his home in Vermont. While he is constantly on the move, he loves the serenity of life in the mountains.

Lee's home was built on land donated by his friend Scott Reed, whom he met at a fantasy camp in the late 1980s. When he recently separated from his wife, Lee spent many nights at the Reed home just down the road.

As Lee brags about the benefits of living in Vermont, he also acknowledges that he will probably be spending less time in the state when his ex-wife and daughter relocate. For all of his bluster, that thought stops him in his tracks.

``I'll need a New England base,'' Lee says. ``But things will be very different. We'll see what happens ... I'm not sure.''

Another Chapter

Returning to his house after his stops in Morrisville, Lee drops off his new chickens and feeds his other animals.

The house is full of boxes, as Pam prepares for her move. Frayed Bill Lee baseball cards are scattered throughout, but there are few reminders of his major league life.

Anna studies the cards and knows her father was a big league player, but Lee says his daughter is unimpressed. Still, the bond between them is obvious. When he interacts with Anna, Lee is every bit a child.

When Lee greets Anna as school ends, he joins his daughter on the swings and asks her about her day as they swing side-by-side. He is reminded about Anna's activities -- pottery class, tee ball -- and Lee seems scattered and unaware.

This is an obvious source of strain between Bill and Pam.

``Maybe if you were home more,'' Pam says.

Lee has no answer. He shrugs and slips into a pensive gaze before saying he will be sure to attend the tee ball game.

``The left hand can't understand the right hand,'' Lee says as a way of describing his relationship with Pam.

Later, as he feeds the animals, Lee says Craftsbury is a perfect place to raise a child and he wants his daughter to grow up among the mountains and trees and farm animals.

The problem is, Lee is often away. Pam says she spends half the year as a single mother and has grown tired of the arrangement.

When they discuss Anna's skills as a tee ball player, Pam makes a point of saying Bill rarely sees her games. She also chides him for unfinished household projects and for his forgetfulness.

Again, Lee has no retort. He says he has accepted that his marriage is over and he is enthusiastic about his girlfriend, with whom he will live in Calgary. They will spend time at a friend's bed and breakfast in British Columbia, they will swim in the Fairmont Hot Springs in Montana and sleep under the stars.

``It's a great life,'' Lee says.

In between baseball and camping, Lee is writing a sequel to his 1984 book ``The Wrong Stuff,'' which was nearly produced as a movie starring Woody Harrelson. Lee hated the screenplay (``Too kiss-and-telly'') and the project died. His next book will elaborate more on his career and include stories about his post-career life.

The book will have all of Lee's thoughts, from politics and philosophy to baseball. And his thoughts on baseball are not limited to the state of the major league game.

As he watches Anna's tee ball game, Lee is restless. Sprawling on the grass, his hands cover his eyes.

``God, I hate this game,'' Lee says. ``Tee ball.''

Lee says he loves instruction, but he does not have the patience for uninterested 7-year-olds. He loves fantasy camps because he teaches the game to middle-aged men who have not played since their youth. ``Building teams with people who don't know how to play,'' Lee says.

He also has no doubt he would have been a good minor league instructor because he can relate to young players from all cultures. His trips to Cuba are proof. Lee brings equipment into the country and works with players even though there is a cultural and language gulf.

``The more diversified you are, the more tools you have to make kids listen,'' Lee says. ``Yeah, I would have been a good manager and coach. But [major league] teams wouldn't touch me.''

At the tee ball game, Lee is commenting on the mechanics of the players. The swings are too wide, he says. The players should know what base to throw to, he insists.

``They're 7 years old,'' Pam says.

Lee shakes his head. When the coaches tell a player to touch the base, Lee wonders why the coach doesn't tell the player to also tag the runner.

``Why don't they teach concepts?'' Lee says. ``You can do other things. They should know how to conceptualize.''

Lee also doesn't understand the rule that requires players to move one base at a time.

``Look, they're all content,'' Lee says. ``One base at a time. David Bowie, station to station.''

After the game, Lee instructs Anna on the art of hitting. Using an umbrella, Anna takes a few cuts. She mimics the sound of a ball hitting a bat, drops the umbrella and runs away.

Lee, continuing to preach about balance and a level swing, picks up the umbrella. Standing alone near the tee ball field he takes a few swings before talking to no one in particular about his hitting.

``Hit a home run in my first [barnstorming] game in Chicopee, hit a home run in my first senior league game, hit a home run in Cuba,'' Lee says as he walks toward the Corolla. ``I'm hitting the [expletive] out of the ball. ... Hitting's all about balance. I'm hitting better now than I ever have.''

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

Quote

Expats gather outside bars and restaurants on Peel street in Soho Masks, temperature checks, and awkward bar vibes — one writer’s recent night out in Hong Kong could be a glimpse at America’s future On a recent Friday night in Hong Kong, two police vans idled outside an upscale Italian restaurant on Wyndham Street. Only a few months earlier, their presence might have been an ominous sign that a unit of anti-protest riot cops was in the area, tear gas and pepper spray at the ready. But as is the case for much of daily life here since January, Hong Kong has moved from a state of protest to pandemic, and that night, instead of an armed “raptor” force wearing dark green fatigues and gas masks, the vans discharged a group of what looked like ordinary patrolmen in simple short-sleeve uniforms and surgical masks. The officers had mustered in one of the city’s busiest nightlife districts to enforce the local government’s ongoing social distancing measures in response to COVID-19, many of which were first announced in late March. They stood outside on the sidewalk like nuns chaperoning a Catholic school dance, armed with rulers, ready to stalk the floor and push guests apart to “make room for the Holy Spirit.” Except in this case the school gymnasium was a bar full of consenting adults, the rulers were rolls of measuring tape, and the Holy Spirit, I assume, was the distance required for gravity to pull down tiny drops of spittle from the air between us. As cities and states across the U.S. begin to float possible dates for reopening the closed sectors of their economies, many diners and hospitality industry leaders are asking what that next phase might look like for restaurants. Because Hong Kong — along with other Asian cities like Seoul and Taipei — has largely succeeded in controlling outbreaks, and allowed its restaurants to stay open throughout the pandemic, some are asking if the present state of dining here could be a glimpse at the future for America. Can diners in Taipei, Hong Kong, Korea, China send me photos of what it looks like in restaurants. How the seating is set up? Are all the servers wearing masks and gloves. What are guests wearing? If anyone works in kitchens how are you dealing w new protocol? — Dave Chang (@davidchang) April 16, 2020 And so, with the number of newly reported COVID-19 cases in Hong Kong staying firmly in single digits over the preceding few days, I traded house socks for chukka boots, slipped on a surgical mask, and did what many in the U.S. have been longing to do for weeks. I went out for dinner. I chose Frank’s in part because it makes for a useful case study of the current regulatory climate in Hong Kong. Bars have been ordered closed, but not restaurants; Frank’s is a split-level operation, with more of a bar setup downstairs and a sit-down restaurant upstairs. The mandatory bar closure has meant that almost all of Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong’s famous party district, has been shut down; Frank’s sits on the edge of LKF, sandwiched between it and the equally busy but more restaurant-heavy SoHo neighborhood. Although popular with Cantonese locals for workweek lunch, at night, Frank’s is often filled with expat residents drinking Negronis and ordering the veal. Expats have come under special scrutiny recently, after a wave of travelers rushing home to the city from hot spots abroad brought new cases back with them only a few weeks ago. Normally, it would cost me less than $1 to take the subway or minibus from my house to Wyndham Street, but to minimize time spent in small, enclosed, crowded spaces, I splurged $6.50 on a cab. At the entrance to Frank’s, I was stopped by a host and was confronted with the first in a series of small obstacles to eating out: the temperature check. Well before COVID-19, it would’ve been hard to go a day in Hong Kong and not see someone wearing a mask. They’re common enough that if you met a friend on the street and someone asked you later if the friend had worn one, you might not remember. In restaurants, I’d seen staff wearing masks from time to time too, though almost never in more upscale situations. But at Frank’s — as with every other restaurant I checked in on — all staff wore the same thin, blue surgical masks Hong Kongers had been wearing on the street for years. While Hong Kong’s pre-existing mask culture somewhat prepared me, in the U.S., it might have felt a little like a mass text had gone out on Halloween, where the in-joke was that instead of asking everyone to dress in a sexy costume, every costume would be a surgeon: Surgeon servers. Surgeon cooks. A surgeon DJ. Even having lived with regular mask culture for years now — and among their near-ubiquity for weeks — seeing every single person who handled my food and drink wear the tell-tale sign of medical caution was jarring. Still, not long into the meal, as the unnerving feeling began to subside, it was quickly replaced by communication issues. I’ve heard a lot of people lament the non-verbal communication lost behind masks, the missed smiles or bitten lips, but more difficult for me were the few times I couldn’t understand what my server was trying to ask me. He was enunciating clearly at a volume well above the ambient noise, but without seeing half his face, he may as well have held his hand behind his back and asked me, “How many fingers?” “Sure,” I replied the first time this happened, and the result was a side of squash I didn’t think I’d ordered. (It was great.) After dinner, I picked my own mask up off my knee, where it had remained throughout the meal, and headed downstairs for a cocktail. I ordered at the bar, got my drink at the bar, and then immediately had to walk away from the bar and stand against the far wall. The bar itself had no stools, and featured printouts explaining that customers could not hang out at the bar. In a total reverse of the usual crush to buy drinks, the few guests in the quarter-full room were clustered in small groups against the far wall with me. Only they weren’t with me at all. When you sit at the bar you are part of a continuum, long or short, curved or straight, finite or infinitely looped, that counts everyone seated anywhere along it as also at the bar. Downstairs at Frank’s, we were all standing up while observing social distance. Me trying to join any one group would have been the awkward equivalent of pulling up a seat to a table full of unsuspecting strangers upstairs. Not having the stomach for that, I downed my drink, put my money on the bar and left. Police on Wyndham Street prepare to enforce social distancing rules on Friday night Pens used to fill out health declaration forms at Yardbird HK are individually sterilized after each use Outside, I walked back past the cops and did a quick loop through an eerily empty Lan Kwai Fong, before wandering back up towards Soho to see how restaurants were doing there. Turning up Peel Street, I was only half-surprised to see several large gaggles of maskless expats drinking out in front of restaurants on the dead-end road. You know that particular genre of sports bloopers where an athlete begins celebrating right on the verge of winning, only to have victory snatched away by someone actually digging for those last few inches? I’ve gotten some good schadenfreude out of those scenes, but with only one new case of COVID reported in Hong Kong the day before my night out, these people felt like the last link on our whole city’s relay team, and their confidence made me nervous. I moved on, and tried to stop in a wine bar that sells enough charcuterie, cheese, and other no-cook food to maybe pass as a restaurant, but the man at the front desk of its building told me that the entire floor was closed. I stopped into the lobby of a high rise on Wellington Street, hoping to finally try the “martini 3-ways” at VEA Lounge, the cocktail bar one flight down from Vicky Cheng’s French-Chinese tasting menu restaurant, VEA, but the button for the 29th floor didn’t work at all. Then I remembered that Yardbird Hong Kong had reopened. It closed for 14 days starting March 23, after word of infected diners at another restaurant group got out. But it was back in business now, albeit under a new regime of health and safety measures. There was a wait, as usual, but nowhere to do the waiting. The front room, where I’ve spent several past pre-dinner hours nursing a cocktail or two while my name moved up the host’s list, had been converted from a mostly standing-room bar area into a second sit-down-only dining room. Anyone not yet seated would have to wait outside. I gave my phone number and went for a walk around the block. When I did finally get in, the host took my temperature and asked me to sign a form declaring that in the last 14 days I had not been outside of Hong Kong, hung out with anyone outside of Hong Kong, and/or had COVID-19 or symptoms of COVID-19. I also gave my name, phone number, and email address, so that should anyone present that night later test positive, they could contact me. I’d had to give the same personal information at Frank’s as well, so that now, despite paying cash at both venues, there was a point-by-point record of my night just floating out there in the ether, my American right-to-privacy preferences be damned. Diners at Yardbird sit four to a table max, in a dining room at 50 percent capacity by law The host told me she had never had problems from anyone about the health form, but there had been larger groups who got annoyed at having to separate into tables of four or fewer. On my own, I was led to a two-top in the middle of the back dining room, ordered a cocktail, and read on my phone. At 50 percent capacity, the place was still lively, but even if the kinetic feeling of the restaurant was still there, some of the potential energy for a solo diner had been stripped away. I’m usually fairly confident being out on my own, but something about sitting so far from another table — even an empty one in one of my favorite Hong Kong restaurants — was uncomfortable. Steam rose in the open kitchen, swirling past a flurry of masked chefs shuffling around their stations. What felt like more servers than I can ever remember seeing on that floor swarmed about the dining room. And everywhere there were people eating. Everywhere, except of course within about six feet on all sides of me. If my distant neighbors and I had shared a brief conversation before I finished my drink, decided there was no point in trying to stay out anymore, and headed home, it most likely would’ve consisted of an exaggerated wave and a pantomimed shout, as if we each occupied either side of an enormous cavern, and could never get much closer than we were already. It would’ve been mildly funny. And mostly true. Andrew Genung is a writer based in Hong Kong and the creator of the Family Meal newsletter about the restaurant industry. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3eHzabl

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