L'esprit de l'escalier

It's all about the timing.

Location: Memphis, Tennessee, United States

I'd rather be somewhere else most of the time and I'm a huge practitioner of staircase wit.


Sometimes sneeze-guards just aren't good enough

“My grandfather had a wonderful funeral....It was held in a big hall with accordion players. On the buffet table there was a replica of the deceased in potato salad.”
Woody Allen

Sometimes large people have this smell. I don't know what it is, but I can only attribute it to larger people, since that's been my experience. I should clarify, I do not think all large people smell, just some, but it's a smell that only belongs... anyway, you get the point. It's kind of sour, like.. er, like there're some crevices that haven't been gotten, know what I mean? So, I'm smelling that very distinctive smell, plate in hand, fried Chinese food-stuffs haphazardly placed underneath the heat-lit sneeze-guard and the man won't move. And he's coughing. And they're deep, rough, takes a couple seconds for one to come out. I feel pissy, trying to find a way to avoid eye-contact but still manage past him for the wontons. But he's massive and he's laboring and he's staring blankly, so I sulk my way back to our dimly-lit (more grossly than romantically) booth and begin to eat. David joins me. We're both put off. Feeling like animals trying to get the food in quickly, not enjoying the slowly filling bellies, barely keeping it down. It's not all the man's fault. There were others, there were children wiping faces, trays being carelessly dropped, Elton John was playing on the speakers, we had to get out of there before we became one of them. The chicken tasted like slime, the wontons crunched like cockroach shells. We left for the Sub Shop and like that, there went $11 out the window. But we kept our health, our food integrity (is that a thing?), our appetites.


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