Monday, August 23, 2010

I'm Back!

Imagine you've just come from a 12:50 AM flight from Malaysia. Two days prior you ate the type of food Anthony Bordain always warns you about. Why? Because it was vegan.

You feel the rules of 'cold buffet' style eating don't apply to you. Your punishment? A night laying awake, hovering near the brink of complete eruption. Luckily, since you've had practice at eating questionable foods, you don't puke your guts out and the next day you're on the mend but you spend it all in bed.

You managed to sleep a little on the flight, but at 4:00 AM the flight attendant shakes you awake to give you you're previously requested 'vegetarian non-dairy' breakfast. He asks you if you want tea or coffee? In your suddenly awake state, you're not really sure what he's talking about. He asks again.

"Tea." You mumble because he obviously expects an answer and he's making it very clear that he doesn't have all day to wait! He pours your tea and you drink it. Not because you wanted it, but because you're trapped in a plane with nothing else to do.

You make it to Incheon. After all the immigration security checks, right before you change your remaining Malaysian ringits back to won, you realize you've left your water bottle at the desk where you filled out your re-entry card that you didn't need anyway.

After briefly considering the retrieval of said water bottle completely impossible and not all that worth it, you remember the following undeniable truths: It's not just any water bottle. It's your friend. You've had it for years, it went all the way to China and Borneo with you! It's stainless steel for crissaskes!

You imagine the poor thing being tossed away like trash, and you rush off to attempt a reckless, daring, rescue! As you dart towards the first gauntlet: "customs" you wonder what the chances are of them letting you back in to this 'highly secure area'.

You explain to the guard that you've left your- Before you can even finish he nods you in. "International Immigration" is the same way. You find your water bottle and your not-so-epic quest is over.

Next, you start thinking about Taco Amigo. Without considering the terrible flight, the food poisoning, the enormity of your luggage, you decide to go there. You dream about refried beans as you black out on the subway.

You get to Taco Amigo, only to find it isn't open for two hours. Your devotion is so great, you find two hours worth of nothing to accomplish in order to eat there. You come back at noon and order your burrito plate (no cheese, no sour cream). They understand. They've had many vegans there. They totally get it. No worries.

Your burrito arrives. You take a bite. Something yellow, gooey and stringy is attached to your fork. You find a puddle of melted cheese at the bottom of your burrito. You are epically disappointed.

You are also a little nervous. The guy who owns this place is one of the few people who, upon seeing him for the very first time, before he even said a word to you, instantly intimidated you. You don't really want to send it back. But you also can't eat it.

You pick around the cheese while you decide what to do. In the end, you call over the waiter and tell him about the nefarious cheese. He looks surprised. A few seconds later, you are completely surprised and frightened to find the owner standing right next to you.

"There's cheese in there?" He demands.
"Y-yes. I think so . . . is that cheese?" You point with your fork to an obvious glob of cheese.
"Ok. I'll make a new one. You don't have to eat that." He says, motioning at your eviscerated burrito.

As you finish your second, more vegan burrito, you're sure he's going to remember you and hate you forever.

You leave, sadly.

Upon arriving at your apartment building, you are greeted with a curious smell. You climb the stairs and the smell grows stronger. You are dismayed. Standing outside your door, you discover that the smell is clearly emanating from your apartment. Bravely, you type in the code on the keypad.

Inside you see what is causing the smell. In the damp, dark, stagnant air you see it everywhere. Mold. Your couch is furry. Your clothes have blooms of blue-green. In lichen-green fuzzy letters you see something scrawled across your wall:

WELCOME BACK!

2 comments:

HuskEric said...

Thank god you're back. I can breath now.

Flint said...

Damn. That is a horrible return trip.