Stick it to the Man

Sometimes all you need to do is stick it to the Man.  Just defy conventional society.  For example, order a veggie sandwich at Five Guys.  Allow me to explain.  For those of you who are uncultured, Five Guys is a burgers and fries place.   You basically don't go to Five Guys and NOT get a burger.  I don't even know if they sell anything that's not beef.  They might have hot dogs, but I'm not sure.  They are also the kind of place that gives you peanuts while you're waiting, and their fries are sinfully good.  But I digress. 

We were on a band trip to Florida.  We had been on a coach bus for a considerable amount of time.  (Then again, 20 minutes sitting still anywhere is a considerable amount of time for me).  We were 4ish hours into the trip, and I was determined to make positive memories.  I was in one of those moods where I just want to do something, you know?  I needed to make a bold move, to express myself.  Standing in line behind 30 or so hungry, tired high school students I made a decision.  Here, at the burger capital of the world, I was going to order a veggie sandwich.  I boldly declared my plan to Allie, who immediately responded like only a best friend would; joining me in dancing in line and chanting "stick it to the man!". 

Finally I approach the counter, and prepare to delight "Rosa" with my order.  I should point out that in your mind Rosa is probably a nice lady, maybe Hispanic, cheerfully shouting the super secret code of burger making to the kitchen, maybe adding a "have a great day!".  No.  Rosa was a man.  A huge, tattoo sporting, Irish man.  I'd be willing to bet he had a motorcycle out back, and probably owned a rabid pit-bull.  He just seemed like that kind of man.

This next part is best expressed through dialogue:

Me: "Hello, I'd like one veggie sandwich and a small fry"

Rosa: (incredulously raises eyebrow) "A veggie sandwich?"

Me: "Yes. A veggie sandwich."

Rosa: "What would you like on your…...veggie sandwich?"

Me: (being the picky eater that I am) "ummmm….pickles.  And lettuce.  And mustard"

Rosa: "Pickles, lettuce, and mustard?"  (laughs)

Ok, let's analyze.  The Irish man named Rosa is laughing at me for ordering something one their menu.  Honey, your name is Rosa.  If anyone should be laughing, it should be me.  But it's ok, this just helped further the social rebellion. 

Me: "Yes.  Exactly"

Rosa: "Ok then...number 73"

At this point I go sit down and wait for my order.  Allie and I, of course, kept celebrating.  Finally, I got my veggie sandwich in all its silver-foil wrapped splendor.  I was expecting a veggieburger with toppings, naturally.  I excitedly unwrapped my veggieburger like that kid unwraps the BB Gun in "A Christmas Story", only to find exactly two pieces of bread, 6 of those little lame pickles they put on sandwiches, a piece of lettuce, and tons of mustard.  That's it.  I could feel Rosa's silent judgment.  Allie and I simply stare at the sandwich.  In a sad attempt to retain my dignity I picked it up and said (loudly) "MMMMM! MUSTARD!!!" and proceeded to eat that sandwich like there was no tomorrow.   Even though that sandwich was lamer than a dog with no legs (that's a terrible analogy) it was the most fun sandwich I've ever eaten. 

The moral of the story, children, is that next time you want to make a statement, you don't have to dye your hair, or write an angry song, or hang an anarchy flag from your window.  Sometimes all it takes is mustard and pickles.