there is this point in line cooking when the balance of control starts to tilt out of your favor. it's kind of like hoping sideways on one leg. the ticket machine starts to spit out the tickets faster and faster." on order" " on fire" " picking up". and then you start to fall. this is when you feel like your floating. everything around you becomes muted excepted for the sound of plates going in and out of the oven and the names of your pick ups. ribeye. veal. lamb. you're all of a sudden aware of the sound of your beating heart. your floating. the dance of the line cook. three hours can pass in what seems like minutes. and then it's over.
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