Things I Have Learned On The Road...

And now for an encore presentation of the first installment of my long-lost series of observational travel truisms: Things I Have Learned On The Road.

Occasionally, you will be hungry while on the road. This happens. Sometimes, when pressed for time, you will look for sustenance INSIDE the gas station at which you have innocently stopped to refuel. You may notice, from time to time, a "hot food area" in the gas station, and may be tempted to purchase a hot dog or some other heat lamp dried meat or churro concotion to sate your appetite. 


Don't. 


These are actually clever traps laid by hive colonies of hyper-intelligent bacteria, seeking to relocate to rest area bathrooms from where they are staging the next step in their plan to conquer the universe. Just look at the mess in any rest area bathroom and you'll agree: no human with a conscience would ever voluntarily make that kind of a mess.


Sometimes, the bacteria get even more wily, though... Sometimes they create reasonable facsimiles of pizza or sub shops in the gas stations. You can only recognize these by the lack of a nationally branded logo, although it can be tricky to spot the more intelligent versions, as they tend to very closely mimic the national chains... If you're at a Pizza Glut, a Pimpie's Subs, or a Stubway, you're likely about to get taken for a joy ride by some hyper-agressive e coli bent on world domination.


How do I know these things? Experience. The same experience that allows me to translate the following exchange. Let's say you're, oh... a touring comedian and you're asking about the pizza in one of these gas stations. When the guy who works the non-nationally-brand-named pizza/sub station in the gas station says, "The pepperoni's pretty fresh," what he means is that eating the pepperoni pizza will be the gastro-intestinal equivalent to sucking water from out of the toilet in a Guadelajaran hotel room.


I now refer to those slices as, "the pizza that broke the Ramada's bowl."


Finally, I also learned the following this weekend: no matter how cool the people you're with are, no matter how much they've had to drink, no matter how good a dancer they think they are, NO ONE looks good while dancing to AC/DC's "Thunderstruck," especially not a bar full of middle-aged white people. Not even when that one guy in the corner is dressed exactly like the guy in the Dexy's Midnight Runners video.
And that's all I've got to say about that.