Food Courts, Blick!

Every once in a while I have to expose my self to the ware of the food court. It does not matter which food court since food courts, in this day of age are somewhat ubiquitous. I would if this is a national plot to keep food courts looking to different one from another. Anymore all food courts must have something Mexican, Chinese, Italian , at least on sandwich offering, pizza, hot dog variable whether it’s, Dog on a stick and fish offering of some sort. Anywhere I go it’s always the same.

Today I had to go ,to the mall across the street from my office to pick up a book and while I was there I thought I would talk myself to lunch—run down top the food court. I had taken a late lunch and as I has surmised there were no lines. I was excited until I opened the door to the food-court and realized everything at th court was old, no new choices. TacomTime looked to heavy, Chinese Express looked to greasy, Dog on a Stick looked too sexist, and McDonald’s well, too McDonalds. Instant food funk and once I have the food funk the best I can do is order the least expensive. If you cannot eat good then you might as well eat cheap.

I finally caved in under a ticking clock and a growling stomach. I chose Subway Sandwich.

Subway’s big deal is that you get to examine your sandwich being constructed. In fact you are vested in the sandwich’s construction. The only trouble with this system for person in a wheelchair is that the system is built for someone who stands. So there I am sitting in front of the sandwich building zone, the adolescent is asking me what I want on it and she cannot hear my answers. I am basically left to pointing to the items I want on my sandwich like a trained chimp in some sort of a primate exhibit. Never mind that through this whole process the adolescent in the transparent plastic gloves was flirting with this guy in the line next to mine. I got one of the toasted choices, a steak sandwich. I always have this mental image of the commercials I am bombarded with during the dinner hour as I watch the news. Fat succulent sandwiches that never look like what I order. In fafct I don’t even order what I really would like order which would be the Hot meatball sub. I would never order this on a work day. I would look dreadful when I would be done with that.

I finally get my toasted steak sandwich and scurry over to a table. I splurged for a bag of vinegar chips but no drink. I sit and watch people as I scarf my sandwich. Little teenage “bone” chicks eating big mac’s then running to the bathrooms to ralf it all back up. I cannot finish soon enough. I swear I’ll never do the food court again but I know that is a promise I cannot keep. I’ll forget in a couple of weeks just how bad foodcourt life is and show up looking for the least of the evils to eat.