Matt reached across the table to hold my hand, his eyes glassy but nonetheless affectionate. "This will be great, a real romantic dinner."

I smiled back at him, trying not to wince at his raspy breathing. "I can't wait." 

There was a pause as we looked in each other's eyes. "You did get all your shots before coming, right? We know it's not Malaria?"

He nodded and coughed weakly. "You're paranoid. We know it's not Malaria."

We were in Kanchanaburi, the final leg of our central Thailand travels. He was flying to Indonesia in two days' time, and I was due back at work the next afternoon. This was our last night together, and though he had been feverish for two days now, Matt was determined to make the most of our evening. After all, we had braved Bangkok bars, monkeys, the world' largest crocodile, and a lot of drunk cabdrivers. Though he looked pale and drowsy, we figured a low-key romantic dinner couldn't possibly be taxing.

The Thai waitress, wearing orange short-shorts and a sly smile, approached the table as we sat down. Specifically, she approached Matt, and batted her eyelashes as she placed the menu between us. It had been our policy to order the strange English mis-prints, never knowing what would turn up on our plates. After ordering the "fried water" and "pain rice," we were pleased to see spicy greens and white rice arrive at our table. 

The waitress set down our plates, reaching over Matt so her breasts touched his shoulder as she leaned. Walking away, she tossed her long hair and smiled back at him. I couldn't help snapping. 

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You're getting eye-humped by the waitress. It's like I'm invisible."

Perhaps the flu was weakening him, but he was calm. "Don't let it bother you. I didn't even notice. Don't worry."

"But it should bother me. And it should bother you."

But our bickering was interrupted by a sound behind me. A tinny, wheezing din, like the noise of a car accident echoing up the street. We looked up to see an elephant, lumbering through the doorway and into the restaurant. When it stopped a few feet from our table, I could do nothing but stare.

It was young, small enough to squeeze through the doorframe, and it's fat body was draped with flashing Christmas lights. In its trunk, the elephant was holding a harmonica, and blowing with enough force to make a loud, tuneless din. From the way its mouth was open, the elephant appeared to be smiling like a child, pleased with the music it was making. 

Two handlers surrounded our table, gruff Thai men with bags of bananas and grass, waving them close to our faces. Their clothes were dusty and dirty, as though they had just walked the elephant down from the jungle, luring it with false promises of harmonica lessons. They grabbed our arms, speaking in urgent broken English.

"You like elephant? You want give him food? You want give him banana? Twenty baht! You want photo him? Twenty baht, photo okay?"  

The waitress stormed up to the men and started yelling in Thai, poking a thin accusing finger into the elephant's back. The men yelled back, their faces gnarled in anger and shiny with sweat. But soon the men backed down, pushing their elephant out the door as they left. The tinny sounds of the elephant's harmonica grew distant down the road.

I turned back to Matt, still grinning from the scene. Beside him. the waitress had calmed her anger and snapped back into Thai Lolita mode, staring coyly while she refilled his water. On my side of the table, my glass remained half-empty as she walked away.

Matt sounded tired, though his voice still carried some wonderment. "I can't believe that just happened. The elephant...."

"I wish she hadn't chased them away. She probably hates animals."

He ignored my pettiness. "I wish we had brought a camera..."

"Oh God, I'll never forget that elephant."

We were both pretty quiet the rest of the meal, subdued by the oddness of the night's events. My silent fuming at the waitress, his fog of illness, our awe for the lit-up musical elephant, all hung over our table as we ate, keeping us quiet. I'll say it, it wasn't the romantic dinner we had planned. But rest assured, it's one I won't soon forget.