Gas Station Dinner
At approximately 7:30 last night, I was twiddling my thumbs wondering what to do for the evening. I remembered reading about Junior High Mustache playing up in Columbus and I thought that sounded dang good. I also knew that Bear Camp was happening just around the corner from the venue, so I figured, even better. More on those events in a later post.
I hadn’t had dinner at this point so I picked up some vittles at a gas station along the way, and I realized something.
I love ham salad. And chicken salad. And tuna salad. Not the fancy kind, but the stuff on white bread cut diagonally and sold in triangular plastic bins. This is road trip food in all its glory, no matter how long or short the distance.
I never buy these salads at the grocery store deli counter to assemble myself. Nope, that’d indicate I am organized.
I coupled the sandwich with a tiny can of Pringles and was perplexed by the big ol’ “Made in the USA” crud on the foil seal.
Here I was, hoping they were imported.