Soccer Mom or Saki Bomb

Soccer Mom or Saki Bomb

My wife and I and another couple were going to dinner.  We decided to go to a Japanese Restaurant that cooked at your table.

When we arrived the restaurant was very crowded, but we had a reservation and we were seated at a large U shaped table that would accommodate about 20 more people.

We placed our initial order when a large party was seated with us. 

They were loud and boisterous screaming out “Soccer Mom” and pounding on the table.

One of the women came over to me and said “We are loud, let me apologize in advance.  It’s my husband’s 50^th birthday”.

“No problem” I said, “we like loud”.  Barbara claims I speak with everyone.  She would prefer it if I didn’t speak to people we don’t know.  I think that’s rude and you would be missing out on some fun.  So I started up a conversation with them.

Turned out they were all Miami cops, including most of the women.  They worked undercover, murder investigations, SWAT, narcotics, and probably some other divisions I didn’t catch.

They kept chanting “Soccer Mom, Soccer Mom” and pounding on the table.  Shortly, the waiter brought them all a glass of beer and a shot glass of Saki.  They balanced the shot glass over the mouth of the beer mug on a pair of chopsticks.  Then, all together, they hit the top of the shot glass and when it dropped into the beer mug, chugged the whole thing.

I realized then that they weren’t saying Soccer Mom, but Saki Bomb.  Barbara says I am going deaf, but I swear it sounded like they were saying Soccer Mom.  She and the couple we were with thought so too.

They asked us to join in the fun.  They had rules.  You could only drink with your left hand or it cost you a dollar, everyone had to drink Saki Bombs.  They bought us a round.

After a couple of Saki Bombs, they didn’t seem so loud anymore.  They were friendly and I thought we blended right in, except for us not being cops.

They told us stories of recent happenings including the birthday boy almost getting shot that afternoon in a drug bust gone wrong.  He had a cut on his forehead from the fight he got into with the guy with the gun.  They all thought that story was particularly funny and kept kidding him about it.

They invited us back to one of the houses to continue the celebration.  I asked how I would know the house.  They said “the one with the Giant Gazebo in the backyard”.  Since it was night time, and the house in question was in a semi-rural area, I didn’t think it wise to wander around and risk getting shot looking for the Gazebo landmark in a backyard.  One of the few times I let discretion rule.

I bought a round of Saki Bombs for everyone and of course it was reciprocated.

By the end of the evening, everyone was happy and many of them were feeling no pain.  It was time for us to go.

I stood up and said, “We have to leave, but I need some protection from the local police while we drive home, what you can do?”  I was hoping for a badge of some kind.

One of the guys gave me his card and said “If you get pulled over show him this, and tell him to call me.  It probably won’t do you any good, but you can try.”

I took the card, and we left.  They stayed and as we left we heard the chant “Saki Bomb, Saki Bomb”.

We had no need to show it, I wasn’t really drunk or even tipsy. I can’t speak for the other three in the car.  We made it home safely, laughing about the evening all the way.

I now know what a Saki Bomb is and what it tastes like.  I think I can tell it apart from a Soccer Mom, but not sure what would happen if you mixed the two; a Soccer Mom who thinks she’s a Bombshell?