I've mentioned that recently I've been eating out a lot more recently. Sometimes, there will be someone else to break bread with, but sometimes I'll just head out to grab something for myself. It's just how it goes; people have different schedules, and sometimes they don't line up properly. Heck, many times I'm restricted by the fact that I have a lunch-time meeting, so I can't exactly sit down at a restaurant with other people.
On the days when I need to find something to eat before/during a lunch meeting, I usually need something quick and convenient. It seems like the perfect scenario for fast food, doesn't it? I'm in a rush, and these places specifically cater to someone in that predicament (it's called "fast food" for a reason). In a word, no. I will exhaust every single other option before I step into a place known for golden arches, royalty, red pigtails, or a gigantic head with a wit.
Why, you ask? Well, there's a story behind that.
I went to a high school with an open campus, so I was allowed to leave with impunity. The nearby malls loved this policy, because that meant that hungry teenagers would often swing by to feed themselves. And I was no different than your average teenager in that respect. One day, I headed over to the mall to grab something to eat. This particular place was running a special deal, where the chicken sandwich cost less than a dollar. Me being the poor high school kid that I was, this sounded like the best available plan. Hunger sated, I headed back to class to go about the rest of my day.
Jumping forward a few hours, I had to work on a project that afternoon. The best place to do my research was actually a nearby university, so I headed there. Me being the teenager that I was, I was hungry again by the afternoon. Remembering the chicken sandwich deal from before, I bought another one and scarfed it down before heading to the university library. All was right in the world again.
A couple of hours after that, I was done with my work at the library. Now, this is where I will readily accept blame. Me being me, I decided to buy a third chicken sandwich, just for grins. Looking back, I was a little hungry, but I can't honestly say that I was starving, and I could have easily waited until I got home. Maybe the temptation was too great, or maybe I just had a craving now that I'd had two of the sandwiches that day. I didn't really have a sound explanation, but I nevertheless purchased and consumed yet another chicken sandwich.
As soon as I finished the sandwich, I suddenly realized why people suggested that fast food was so bad for you. My stomach did not feel right at all. To this day, I'm not sure exactly why I was in discomfort. Maybe it was all that mayonnaise, maybe my stomach didn't appreciate all that grease, or maybe there was something about that third sandwich that had spoiled. I do know that it wasn't the amount of food, though; I've eaten far more than that and survived. Still, all I knew was that three trips to that place had resulted in stomach pain. The association was etched into my brain.
I skipped dinner that night, which was practically unheard of for a teenage boy. I ended up drinking something warm to calm my stomach, and I vowed never to eat three of those sandwiches again. Actually, the response was much more profound than that. I couldn't even look at that place for a solid month afterward. Even after that, I pretty much went out of my way to eat anywhere other than that place for something like six months after that. Eventually, I would step foot again in that establishment, but the initial innocence was gone. I always had some vague recollection of the discomfort of that night bouncing around in my head, so I made sure not to order the greasiest items on the menu. To this day, that particular sandwich gives me pause when I see it on a menu.
All of that brings me back to the present. I am long removed from the trauma of that day, but the psychological scars still linger. I'm not getting fast food for lunch if I can help it. I've learned my lesson.
On the days when I need to find something to eat before/during a lunch meeting, I usually need something quick and convenient. It seems like the perfect scenario for fast food, doesn't it? I'm in a rush, and these places specifically cater to someone in that predicament (it's called "fast food" for a reason). In a word, no. I will exhaust every single other option before I step into a place known for golden arches, royalty, red pigtails, or a gigantic head with a wit.
Why, you ask? Well, there's a story behind that.
I went to a high school with an open campus, so I was allowed to leave with impunity. The nearby malls loved this policy, because that meant that hungry teenagers would often swing by to feed themselves. And I was no different than your average teenager in that respect. One day, I headed over to the mall to grab something to eat. This particular place was running a special deal, where the chicken sandwich cost less than a dollar. Me being the poor high school kid that I was, this sounded like the best available plan. Hunger sated, I headed back to class to go about the rest of my day.
Jumping forward a few hours, I had to work on a project that afternoon. The best place to do my research was actually a nearby university, so I headed there. Me being the teenager that I was, I was hungry again by the afternoon. Remembering the chicken sandwich deal from before, I bought another one and scarfed it down before heading to the university library. All was right in the world again.
A couple of hours after that, I was done with my work at the library. Now, this is where I will readily accept blame. Me being me, I decided to buy a third chicken sandwich, just for grins. Looking back, I was a little hungry, but I can't honestly say that I was starving, and I could have easily waited until I got home. Maybe the temptation was too great, or maybe I just had a craving now that I'd had two of the sandwiches that day. I didn't really have a sound explanation, but I nevertheless purchased and consumed yet another chicken sandwich.
As soon as I finished the sandwich, I suddenly realized why people suggested that fast food was so bad for you. My stomach did not feel right at all. To this day, I'm not sure exactly why I was in discomfort. Maybe it was all that mayonnaise, maybe my stomach didn't appreciate all that grease, or maybe there was something about that third sandwich that had spoiled. I do know that it wasn't the amount of food, though; I've eaten far more than that and survived. Still, all I knew was that three trips to that place had resulted in stomach pain. The association was etched into my brain.
I skipped dinner that night, which was practically unheard of for a teenage boy. I ended up drinking something warm to calm my stomach, and I vowed never to eat three of those sandwiches again. Actually, the response was much more profound than that. I couldn't even look at that place for a solid month afterward. Even after that, I pretty much went out of my way to eat anywhere other than that place for something like six months after that. Eventually, I would step foot again in that establishment, but the initial innocence was gone. I always had some vague recollection of the discomfort of that night bouncing around in my head, so I made sure not to order the greasiest items on the menu. To this day, that particular sandwich gives me pause when I see it on a menu.
All of that brings me back to the present. I am long removed from the trauma of that day, but the psychological scars still linger. I'm not getting fast food for lunch if I can help it. I've learned my lesson.
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