Tales from Exit 22 by Al Batt

 

I found the snow shovel.

I’ve got to find a better hiding place for it.

We’re in a seasonal slide. I took a long walk one night. There was no short pier available as my wife had suggested as the perfect place for my constitutional. The weather was user-friendly at the start of my walk. Then the wind picked up, making me wish I’d worn a hat. By the end of my forced march, it was snowing. A time for new things.

My bride and I had tried an Impossible Burger, a meatless hamburger. It wasn’t bad or in the words of an enthusiastic Minnesotan, “It was OK.” That’s high praise right there. I’d have liked a smaller burger because back when Hector was a pup, I was a member of the Clean Plate Club. That Club believed that by licking our plates clean, we could somehow help the starving children of the world. The Impossible Burger was too big for me to devour.

Years ago, I spoke in Washington, D.C. and traveled about on the Metro, a busy public transportation (subway) system. It was an efficient if eerily unfamiliar way of travel. A couple of friends and I, feeling a bit peckish, ventured to Union Station, a transportation hub opened in 1907. It’s a terminal for Amtrak, the Metro, buses, streetcars and UFOs. I can’t verify the UFO part, so please don’t go repeating it. Union Station is populated with stores and restaurants. We decided to try a plant-based sandwich called a soy burger. I grew up with soybeans. I’ve lived surrounded by soybeans. Some of my best friends are soybeans. We each took a hearty bite of our burgers the moment they arrived. We were hungry enough to eat a horse with its hooves on.

One bite did it. It nearly gave me a case of the agonies. It tasted like mustard and ketchup on soggy bread, with just a hint of insipid pickle. The more adventurous one of us tried a second bite before declaring, “Civilization has sunk to a new low.”

We didn’t complain to the provider about the food. It wasn’t in us to do such a thing. It was our fault for ordering them. There was what we judged a homeless man seated near us. We did so without ignoring Mother Teresa’s advice, “If you judge people, you don’t have time to love them.”

He asked if he might have the three barely bitten burgers. We summoned some decency and gave them to him along with some coffee to wash them down. He pulled a plastic fork and knife from the inner recesses of his army jacket and used them to eat around the bites with great gusto. He’d traveled that culinary road before. “I get a lot of these from people,” he said.

Plant-based burgers have made great strides since those dark, inedible days.

My wife and I ate Impossible burgers because we’re adventurous sorts. The burger didn’t stir me as much as Navin R. Johnson, a character played by Steve Martin, was stirred in a 1979 movie, titled “The Jerk.” This dialogue is from when Navin got his first phonebook listing.

Harry Hartounian: “Boy, I wish I could get that excited about nothing.”

  Navin R. Johnson: “Nothing? Are you kidding? Page 73 — Johnson, Navin R.! I’m somebody now! Millions of people look at this book every day! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity — your name in print — that makes people. I’m in print! Things are going to start happening to me now.”

I’m thinking that each day I’m able to sit up and take nourishment, I should be as excited and appreciative as Navin R. I’m a big believer in sending thank you notes and hope that being excited or amazed is a way to send a thank you note to the world.

We had a storm door go bad. It wasn’t a great tragedy, but it spurred my wife into action. We went shopping for a replacement. Jubilation! There was a wide selection: wood, aluminum, full-view, retractable, ventilating, rollscreen and stylish handles available in various finishes.

“Which door do you like?” my wife asked. I’d never truly liked a door before. I’ve appreciated them, but never felt affection for one. I picked a door because I dreaded seeing disappointment on my wife’s face.

I’m trying to be excited about the door. I reckon if a new and improved Impossible Burger came equipped with a full-view storm door with patent pending technology, I’d be thrilled to sample it.

Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Saturday.