We’ve all been there. It’s 5 on a Saturday night. You have spent all day in front of Netflix and no time in front of a mirror. Your hair looks like Bernie Sanders’ mid-speech and it is unclear if you were in a fight or if your makeup is just smeared from the night(s) before. You don’t have the motivation or the courage to look in the mirror and try to right the wrongs, but you are also hungry with no food in the house. Like, starving. Starving to the point where if you could digest your blanket, you would start chomping away.
The idea of take-out comes to mind, since fleece doesn’t move through the stomach well. At this point, I am sure that you as the reader are thinking, “Why don’t you just order in?” I’m so glad you asked. Sure, in most big cities you can just Seamless, Grubhub, or Postmates your order. Then you only have to face the delivery person and scar them for eternity. I wonder how many delivery people have seen sights that even Stephen King could not conjure up in his twisted imagination. Bless these people who have the capability to blackmail so many people yet don’t because most of them are cool about it. They get it. It’s hard to be a presentable human being 24/7. Sometimes you just have to look like a sea creature from the bottom of the ocean who somehow escaped to start a new life on land.
If you are from a small town that only has pizza delivery and don’t want pizza for the 2,000 time, you have to go get your take-out. On a Saturday night, this means you will have to not only brave the elements, but also potentially your seventh grade teacher, grocery store cashier, and hairstylist all in one night. All of these people have probably seen you at your worst at one time or another. Your 7th grade teacher saw you when your body and emotions were a mess. Your grocery store cashier knows all the weird and sad stuff you buy because it’s hard to smuggle Pop Tarts and frozen pizza through the black market. Your hairstylist has seen you when your hair has been slicked down wet to your head and sewer rats could have placed higher than you if a beauty contest was somehow simultaneously occurring at the same time. So all of these people know your ugly secrets. Also, your grocery store cashier knows you can’t cook and she is not surprised one bit that you are here. However, it can be a little (a lottle) frightening to face them all down like a western shootout in one place at one time.
Some restaurants have figured it out and have put their take-out places at their side doors. This way, we uglies can give the secret password at the door like in a speakeasy and get in to get the goods from Rocco without no one being the wiser. I thank you, kind people.
For the rest of you restaurants, why do I need to sachet all the way through the restaurant to the bar to get my food? I’m trying to be seen by as few people as possible at the current moment. I feel like I am having to model walk my ugly down the runway in front of everybody. Just so you know, I am so not going to tip as much after this traumatic experience.
Please think of us uglies who just want food. We will keep coming back again and again if we don’t have to be seen by everybody and their grandmother. We will even come when we’re not so ugly, but let’s be honest, the chance of that is the same as going to a restaurant without a crying baby.