Yeah, I realize I took a sabbatical for what, about a year and a half? Some big things happened over that time about which I'm sure I'll mention as we go along. The second child we had in November will be kinda hard not to talk about, I'd imagine.
At any rate, I've been Vegetarian for a few months now. I shoot for Vegan, but don't go all crazy about an accidental bite of butter here or there, or cream in my coffee. I'd say I was a 'lax Vegan,' but I don't think that is allowed. People will come knocking on my door for that, I think. Seriously.
Anyway, that lifestyle change occasionally makes eating out a bit more challenging, as dairy products are in almost everything out there. Today's lunchtime choice was the falafel platter at the mall.
"Sandwich and fries?" The platter-assembler (pardon the ignorance of the official terminology) rushed over, intercepting the girl at the register as she tried to accurately enter the order.
"No, the platter."
"This?" She hipchecked the register girl out of position to point to a picture of falafel and fries.
"No." I pointed to the picture of the platter...you know, what I ordered. "This."
"That comes with salad and rice," she said as an attempt at negation.
"Right. That's what I want."
"No fries..." she delivered like a threat, like I was a five-year-old flicking my sister in the back seat of the Buick on the way to Grandma's house.
"No fries."
Dismayed, she allowed the register girl to resume her post.
So I got what I wanted, but see, she had now succeeded in getting into my head. Do I look that much like a fry guy? Maybe the new diet has symptoms of which I've previously been unaware. Eye tremors and facial tics, maybe, when my gaze happens to drift towards the fry station. Or maybe the fries were just so darn good that I missed out on some sort of divine fry experience. I don't know.
And I won't know. I can't go back there and order the fries now. Not after we
fought about it in front of witnesses. She'd think she'd won, and I can't allow that. Think of what that would do to the morale of the beaten down register girl.
Fries are really just an excuse for the existence of ketchup, anyway.
