It’s amazing the cravings that people get whilst in a chemically altered state of mind, particularly following a prolonged consumption of such substances. If you don’t believe me, just try going through the Taco Bell drive-thru on a Friday or Saturday night at about 2:00am. Then call me once you finally get your food at 8:27am, only to discover that they messed up your order. Or you could do as I did and stop by Taste of Philly in old town at 2:15am.
As hard as I may try, I cannot offer any explanation as to why
Every time I have a customer to pick up at Taste of Philly, it is inevitable that they will have placed an order for food approximately one minute before I arrive. This was no exception. But they did offer me food, which was kind of them. I get offered food quite frequently, actually. I generally politely decline, for reasons of modesty and also just to be safe. But at least once per night someone offers to buy me some food. (I won’t even go into how many times people offer to buy me alcohol or to join them at their party) I have come to the realization that the real solution to world hunger would be to just have starving people drive taxis. Then they can finally have a regular source of food. Granted, they would probably die of salmonella, but at least the starvation issue would be resolved.
And with this thought, I decided to make the most out of the few minutes I would be waiting and go use the restroom.
After stepping into the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind me, I felt something wet on my hand. I figured it was probably just water from someone who didn’t dry their hands sufficiently after washing. Yes, I am quite good at being painfully naïve like that. But when I turned around, reality set in. I’m sure many of us have heard the saying “Sometimes boys miss”. Usually this statement refers to them missing the toilet. Well, that wasn’t quite the case this time. Whoever had meant to use the toilet not only managed to completely miss it entirely (except for some abundant splatter all over the seat), I wondered if they had managed to actually miss the bathroom as well.
Needless to say, I thoroughly washed my hands several times afterwards. As I walked toward the counter where the employees were hard at work, I contemplated whether or not I should tell them. It was so busy, and I didn’t want to add to the stress of the situation. So, I decided to leave them in their state of relatively ignorant bliss and not inform them of the atrocities that had occurred in their restroom facilities. I figured it was the most humane thing I could do.
I sat down with the group of people I was to drive to their destination, since it would still be a few minutes until their sandwiches were ready. We made casual chit chat, and they entertained me with a brief recounting of some of the events of their evening.
Then one guy, a semi-jock type, semi-pretty boy, semi-fraternity brother type, turned to look directly at me and asked me an unexpected question.
“Does my nose look crooked to you?”
Since I am among the least observant people I know, I hadn’t even taken note it before. So, my eyes slowly moved down from looking into his and followed down the center of his nose. As I got to the tip, there was no denying it. Something was off, and I mean literally. It was bent to the side about 2/3 of the way down. Answering his question as honestly, yet tactfully as possible, I said:
“Hmm, it looks like it is a little bit. But I probably wouldn’t have noticed”.
I am proud to say that this answer was completely, 100% truthful. I never would have noticed.
“Spoken like a true diplomatic cab driver.” one of his friends said.
It turns out that he got in a fight with a few people earlier that night. Well, by saying a “few” people, I actually mean 10. I have no idea what the fight was about (though I do seem to recall there being a girl involved in the story somewhere). Needless to say, I was thoroughly impressed. He managed to take on 10 people in a fight and emerge with nothing but a slightly crooked nose. This guy was awesome.
When the sandwiches were finally ready, we went out and climbed into the cab. There were 5 of us total, and the most chemically altered one was in the passenger seat next to me. We drove about half a mile and the three guys in the back were still laughingly recounting more of the events of the night. Suddenly, the guy next to me, a guy in his early twenties with dark hair and seemed to be of a Hispanic descent, freaked out.
“Whoa! There’s a cop!”
So what did he do? He did exactly what any logical person would do. He rolled down the window and threw out the last half of his Philly Steak sandwich.
“Did you just throw your sandwich out the window?!” I asked, thoroughly confused by what was going on.
“Yes! I don’t want to get arrested!” he exclaimed.
“You could get in trouble for having a sandwich?” I asked, trying to understand the logic in this situation.
“Yes! And they would do it too!” he replied.
All I could do was laugh. It wasn’t quite ROTF laughter, but it was definitely up there.
What confuses me most now is the fact that he was so freaked out about a sandwich but he had no problem shortly thereafter talking about the drugs that he was going to do once we got to his house. He could hardly contain his excitement and desire to party as he broke out exclaiming, “Yeah! We’re gonna get hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!”
He asked me if I wanted to join them (once again, a nice illustration of the variety of things I get offered every night as I engage in more cabbage), but I laughed politely and said that I am clean. I have no desire to do anything like that. And I don’t think I’m ever going to look at a Philly Steak sandwich from Taste of Philly the same way again. Or use their bathroom.
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