Bacon is the most delicious food on the planet, but causes mild hallucinations.
I woke up on Sunday and tried to figure out what to do with my day. Should I break my eighteen year streak of not making church service? As a true competitor I have a record to maintain. Look, it’s true that when I get to church (read: going to somebody’s wedding) I do feel better. But you know what also makes me feel better? Meet the Press and an omelette.
Church was out. Also, I know nothing about sports. I mean nothing. The weekends are packed with every collegiate and professional game, and I never know what sports go on this time of year anyway. I know football’s on, but is baseball still around? Basketball isn’t, I don’t think. But then with college sports isn’t it all reversed? Instead of going to Google to sort it out, I just don’t care. I don’t follow any teams anyway. Plus I don’t drink, so hanging out at a bar yelling at a flatscreen is not terrible appealing.
The best thing about not drinking is you get to avoid bars. I spend enough time in bars playing gigs with my band. And, unless you’re into super nachos, bar food usually sucks. Also, hey ladies, throw away the oversized football jersey you wear out. I want to picture you as a woman, you know, with breasts. Nothing is less sexy that a chick with a Peyton Manning jersey drinking a Guinness. Wear a tight sweater and call it a day.
Anyway, I was digressing. Oh yeah, so I found out there was a bacon festival going on at noon.
I’d like to say that I didn’t jump out of bed naked with celebratory horse-dancing like the Korean pop-star Psy, but that would be a lie. I totally did.
Funny enough, this bacon event was taking place in a bar. It’s weird showing up to a bar, to a big food event, by yourself. Why? Because nobody else is there alone. While standing in line for the twenty different restaurants that were going to stuff me with bacon, these two girls behind me asked to take their photo. I used this as an opening to chat them up. Since we were in single-file line the whole time, in my head we were all one group. They had invited me out and they were thrilled to be spending their Sunday with such a great guy.
Then once we got our bacon dishes, ranging from appetizer to dessert, they ditched me. The fantasy in my head did not match their reality.
So I ate alone. Yes, it’s depressing to be standing up at a bar eating bacon ice cream and not being able to turn to someone and go, “Wow – they nailed that shit!” You just have to say it to yourself. Since I had nobody to talk with I probably put down three thousand calories of pork in forty-five minutes.
I said goodbye to the women as I walked by their table. Since we weren’t together or buddies they politely grunted a “bye” and then turned to each other to discuss how it was weird I was there alone. In my universe everyone talks about me once I leave.
On the way home I realized I needed groceries. It was at the deli counter when I noticed it. Waiting in line with that little ticket, I pleasantly left my body and drifted across the counter to the meat slicer. Then I looked around at the seven different potato salads from inside the glass.
I was having a bacon hallucination.
Stumbling around that grocery store high on bacon was both fun and awful. Good times were had as I rolled the cart down the aisles a little faster than socially acceptable. Plus I was smiling like a dick the whole time. But, if you’ve never gone grocery shopping after a full day at the Chinese buffet, give it a shot. Every food item will make you want to vomit. I was even looking at the Fresca thinking, “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hold one down right now.”
I made it home and promptly passed out for two hours. It was 1:30pm.
If I had just gone to church this post would have read – “Did some killer kneeling. Decent hymn work. Wore a great tie. Cookies after.”
