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Aaron N. Tubbs

Dragon chaser.

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So I thought perhaps the way to at least distract myself from this cloud of gloom was to go get a Fatburger. The closest Fatburger I know of is at the Palisades Center, so I drove there. Got to Fatburger at 12:30, and was told they weren’t open yet. When would they open? “I don’t know, maybe half an hour?”

Figures.

So, I decided I was hungry, and went to Chevy’s Fresh Mex, which also isn’t available very commonly out here, and apparently has taken root at the same mall.

I sat at a booth with my basket of chips and salsa.

I finished the chips and salsa.

Still no waiter, no drink, no order.

So, I took my empty basket to the front counter and said “I’ve eaten this while waiting for anybody to come by. Have a nice day.”

So I went to Qdoba for a burrito instead.

The mall is full of these obnoxious folks outside every store and booth that come at you and ask “to ask a quick question” or “fill out a survey” or “try their product.” I do my best to put on my “I’d rather eat my arm than talk to you” face, but it doesn’t seem to work, so I have to look straight ahead, say “No.” and keep walking.

Thus, by the time I got to Qdoba, I decided I was in the mood for burning myself another way other than thermally, and went for a steak burrito with a healthy dose of Habanero salsa. When the lady heard me ask for that, she had me repeat myself, and then said “Are you sure? Nobody orders that.”

Having dealt with several dozen pushy people outside their little booths of failed lives, having had no Fatburger, and having sat for 20 minutes in Chevy’s, all I could muster was “do I look unsure?”

It wasn’t that hot; I was sort of hoping for some pain.