“Wrapped with what? Did you say bacon? Yes, please.”
That was the AE Pilot Jim’s standard reply whenever another in an endless stream of waiters would appear at the table with another sizzling skewer of meat.
Had a lovely dinner last night with Phlegm Fatale, Old NFO, Farmgirl, and The Gun-Toting Seagull at a local steakhouse.
Tamara would love this place, because Texas de Brazil is a true carnivore’s wet dream.
Menus? They don’ need no steenking menus! Meat, that’s what they serve! You want more meat, just flip the little card on your table, green side up. Waiters will magically appear bearing skewers of roasted dead animal flesh.
When vegetarians lie in bed at night, terrified of the Closet Monster or the Goblin That Sleeps Under The Bed, the monster in their mind’s eye bears a striking resemblance to a Texas de Brazil waiter.
With a skewer of medium rare bacon-wrapped filet mignon.
Or Parmesan pork.
Or pork ribs.
Or garlic filet mignon.
Or picanha.
Or God knows what else. I ate until I was stuffed. It was a veritable orgy of meat. Meatgasmic, even.
Also, overheard at the table:
“So speaking of having your junk fall out of your drawers, that reminds me…”
“Vegetables aren’t food. Vegetables are what food eats! I get my veggies by eating vegetarians…”
“If you stab me with your fork, what will you finish your cake with?”
[answer] “I castrate bulls. You think a little of your blood on a fork is gonna bother me?”
“Hell, I flew with those guys for three years before I knew that planes could be piloted upright. On purpose.”
“The only thing missing is bacon-wrapped bacon. They need some of that. Or maybe some of that bacon-flavored dental floss like I sent to Breda.”
*sniff*
I’m getting a little bit weepy just remembering it. And, come to think of it, hungry. Catch you later, folks.
