I was looking forward to finally getting to go to the brand new Subway restaurant in our town, the only one we have, after the old one had been deactivated, torn down to make way for a gigantic pharmacy. The inactive bowling alley was destroyed too in the long overdue renovation at that very busy intersection of Borger, near the very center of the entire Texas panhandle.
But when I entered the sparkly fresh restaurant anxious for my Bacon Chicken Ranch on Something Random Picked Bread after at least four months without one, I was met with bizarre loud rock music and a line long of humans waiting. Plus that line now went from right to left instead of left to right, so I left the building after just a few seconds, maybe twelve, certainly less than thirty, hungry and irritated. The thought of eating in their environment glassed-in-box-on-display watching cars zoom by at this new vehicular busy location that used to be another glass smaller box ATM suddenly seemed totally bizarre and unnatural. I don't know which of those factors bothered me the most, or if they just quickly summed up as unacceptable, crossing a threshold, a virtual pressure relief valve, or rupture disc. Leave! Now! Go!
It was bad enough that I had just been to McDonald's and they didn't have any more McRibs or that my favorite local diner was closed on that day. No grilled chicken sandwich with bacon misery. There is always that horrible seasonal moment when you discover that McD suddenly rips away your favorite item, no, not just your favorite, your ONLY reason to ever go there, McRibs. Taste bud abuse. I hate you again McD, you evil giant food monster. Isn't that what God s'pposedly used to make woman in the Garden of Eden (?), no that was just a borrowed rib, not a barbequed rib; no bread, sauce, meat, dill pickle and onions. If he would have used a McRib then maybe women would suddenly, and magically, disappear and reappear at totally random times. Interesting thought.
It was a rare moment when I was hungry and I had absolutely no desire to cook anything plus the thought of creating dirty dishes annoyed me even farther. I think I finished the day with a bowl of breakfast cereal or a simple sandwich at home, I don't remember now what I had, just nothing fancy, with a side order of despair, sad taste buds that wanted to file for divorce from the rest of my body, and emptiness.