to a Red Sox game a few years back. I don’t want to tell you where I won them, because I don’t want anyone to know that I was at Hooter’s, so let’s just say I was at a bar and I won some tickets to a Red Sox game complete with a limo for me and three of my closest friends. So I go to the game - I think it was an afternoon game, but I really have no idea because everything just blends together at my advanced age.
All I know is, by the time I was standing outside of Fenway, I was a puddle. I was one of THOSE people. Wasted. My friends and I decided we were going to get a sausage and pepper sandwich, which is a tradition outside of Fenway, even though it’s probably garbage. The people of New England are willing to pretend horrible things are good (I’m one of them) just to perpetuate tradition.
Oh man, you GOTTA get a sausage and peppah! They’re WICKED good!
So, I order my sausage and pepper and pay the man. I grab the sandwich off the cart-thingy and just destroy it. I have about an inch of sausage left when the guy from the sausage stand leans over and hands me a sausage sandwich in a little cardboard holder thingy. We both look at the sausage in my hand and then at the one in his hand. Then we look at each other, confused. Finally, he realizes what happened.
HOLY SHIT DUDE, YOU WANT A HOT ONE? THAT FUCKIN’ THINGS BEEN OUT HERE SINCE THIS MORNIN’!
I ate the display model. It’s like my grandfather always said. Sometimes you eat the display model sausage.
And now you know the rest of the story. Good night.
…that you hate but that you need because that’s what feeds you and heats the house and pays the bills. Spend every minute, every day, every week there until you wake up one day and realize that you’re going to spend your life at that job you hate, doing something that you aren’t passionate about or even give a shit about at all. Get out of work that day, go home and change into a pair of sweats and stare out the window for a while and realize that you ARE home, wherever you are. It IS about the roof over your head. Life is a series of failures and disappointments. It’s the occasional, tiny pleasures that make it all worth it. The leaves changing. The smell of coffee brewing. The sound of the dishwasher running while you’re falling asleep. Watching your child walk out of school and look around for you. Birds. Dogs. Being up before sunrise. The perfect song coming on at the perfect time. If I could go back and tell my twenty year old self anything about anything, I would tell him to quit looking around for things that are right in front of his nose.