9.00: As we stood there,waiting for what seemed like an eternity, we hungrily eyed the lucky few who were a bit early and had piled their plates with the elusive noodles (the early chicks got the worms). Noone dared to leave their place in the line, trusting Murphy's Law to work its wonders (the moment you leave, Bairaji would enter with the chow). A daring few took the risk of nipping out to get a piece of toast, and then nipped back in, chomping hungrily.
9:05:... and the clock's ticking away, but no chowmein to be even smelt. As the 9 o'clockers slowly disappeared, having had just bread, I stuck it out yet.
9:10: I decided to give it up and have my (burnt) toast. Just as I finished with my paltry meal, who else but Bairaji (motivated by Murphy) made his grand re-entry, welcomed with relieved sighs by the few stolid ones who'd stuck it out in the line till then. As I passed the tureen of chow, I could not let my efforts go to waste, and decided to have a helping at the last moment.
9.15: And me shovelling down a spoonful of stringy, half cooked, over vinegared noodles, wondering what I had done to deserve Chowmein For Breakfast....