Yesterday I went to Boston Market. The person serving me had a heavy Eastern European accent.
I should've left right there. But, naturally, I didn't, or this would be an extremely boring entry.
I took a second to decide what to get, and then approached the counter.
I order my sides (mashed potatoes and corn. I'd never gotten corn before, but I figured it was healthy.)
"For here or to go?" she says, in her accent.
Apparently, she didn't get the message. She puts my food on a plastic plate and puts a cover it, and puts it in a bag.
I decide not to say anything, but rather get a lemonade and slink to the back of the restaurant.
I take out my meal, but apparently the top wasn't on good.
I lose two pieces of my three piece dark chicken.
And a bunch of corn. Darn.
Well, I clean up as best as I can and switch tables. I eat my food. It wasn't terrible, but not great.
I start drinking my lemonade. And by that I mean I spill it all over the place.
I was just spazzing. Ah, well.
So yeah. Band camp today.