I went to a Korean restaurant for lunch today. By myself. I like going to lunch by myself because � because� okay, I was going to tell you because I like the peace and quiet and I enjoy reading during my meals and it�s a good way to relax but that would be a lie. I never relax. The real reason is because I�m a misanthrope and people drive me crazy but you can�t tell people that because then they won�t buy you presents.

I went to this restaurant because I love bi bim bop which sounds like a kind of jazz but is actually seasoned ground beef on rice with lots of pickled vegetables and a fried egg on top. You smash it all together and put Korean Barbeque sauce over it and it�s delicious. I used to eat it a lot on college, but I rarely have it these days and it sounded like a treat. I even had the latest issue of The Atlantic Monthly with me, which is not unusual because I always try to have something to read in my car in case I�m stuck somewhere boring. Which is just about everywhere.

So I order the bi bim bop and I start reading my Atlantic Monthly. I only recently started reading this magazine and I really like it. It�s written in a very smart style which I can actually understand so I read it and then hug myself with glee at my own erudition. This month�s cover story is called �The 51st State?� and it�s all about Iraq and how if the U.S. invades it we will then have to support it afterwards and it will practically be a U.S. state for all the work it�s gonna take to maintain it and:

�Ooooook-lahoma where the wind come sweepin� down the plain!�

What the..?

�Where the wavin� wheat, can sure smell sweet��

They�re playing �Oklahoma� in this Korean restaurant. It�s not a Korean version. It�s the real deal, with John Raitt singing in full theatrical voice. It�s funny to me, to hear this in here. Incongruous. But when I look around, no one else seems to notice. The waitstaff are smiling blandly, looking a bit bored. There are only two other people in the restaurant, both Caucasian women, like me. One of them smiles apologetically to the waitress as she is handed a fork. �My kids are so embarrassed by me, but I just can�t work those darn chopsticks.� The waitress smiles politely and nods. She understands. Those crazy chopsticks.

The two different cultures. Colliding? Or meeting each other halfway? I mean, the lady might think chopsticks are a bother but she is in here eating the food, right? The proprietor may be Korean, but he�s playing �Oklahoma� on the stereo. How American can you get? Does assimilation only go one way? Are we the giant Imperialists that this Atlantic Monthly article implies we are, about to invade a country for the first time in our history? America the steamroller? A McDonalds on every street corner in Baghdad? Well, yes, I guess we are. But I daresay we pick up some other flavor along the way. Don�t we? I mean, there are nothing but white folks eating in this Asian restaurant. Isn�t this what we�re all about? Accepting other cultures? Reaching out to their tradition as they reach out to ours?

The stereo is playing an instrumental now. �It Ain�t Necessarily So.� And no, I didn�t just make that up to fit this story.

I want to show these waiters that I accept their culture. I�m no xenophobe. I have a thing about that. Last time I was here, a good two years ago, I ordered the bi-bim-bop and they looked at me skeptically. �It�s very spicy,� they warned.

�I know that.�

Sheesh.

So they brought the dish to me and then started to walk me through it:

�You mix it all together. Then you take this sauce��

�I KNOW HOW TO DO IT!� I said.

This is why I have to eat lunch alone.

Two guys have been seated next to me. They�re talking about how cute Reese Witherspoon is.

I ask the waitress for kim chee, which is a pickled cabbage that is really good with most Korean dishes. I think I see in her eyes that she is impressed with my knowledge of such Korean things and I feel a small surge of pride. She brings it, and I take a few bites. Ahh, crunchy and spicy. Very nice.

But there�s a problem.

I like to stir my kim chee into my bi bim bop. It adds a nice crunchy spicy texture to the dish. I�ve always done it that way, but today I�m so concerned about being savvy to other cultures that I�m afraid it might be a really boorish thing to do. Like pouring ketchup all over an expensive steak or dipping your French fries in your chocolate shake. Is this really the Korean way? Will they group me in with that other lady who can�t even operate chopsticks? I am the most self-conscious diner in this entire Korean restaurant, although now I�m not even sure if you could call it a Korean restaurant because I see that they serve sushi here. Everyone knows sushi is Japanese so maybe they�re all Japanese and me assuming they�re Korean is really ignorant and stupid like someone thinking I�m French just because I�m white.

�Old Man River� is now playing on the stereo.

That song always makes me sad. Paul Robeson is reported to have hated that song, feeling it reinforced stereotypes. And here I am fretting over the fact that I can�t tell if these folks are Korean or Japanese. And I can�t ask them because that�s rude and besides there�s a good chance they�d be horribly insulted.

It�s because I�m a Democrat, right? A bleeding-heart, women�s rights, pro-choice, chardonnay-sipper? A Volvo-driving, sensible shoes wearing, Atlantic-Monthly reading liberal! I think to much. I fret over everything. I�ll bet a Republican wouldn�t have this angst. They�d just charge right in like they owned the place and order a steak.