My Slice of Home

An old fashioned soul, I am learning to do things on my own as if it was the first time. Rather than utilize the internet or phone book, I use classical advertising to point me where to go. During a run along the bay, I saw a truck drive by on the road baring a familiar logo. The trailer had a friendly familiar face holding a pizza and a phone number in large lettering. “44 24 PAPA” it read. I know what I will be eating for dinner/breakfast/lunch for the next several days- Papa John’s. After I got home, I dialed this number, ordered my pizza in my most perfect Qatari dialect and waited patiently with 50 Riyals in my hand.

The bland, yet fluffy crust tasted like home. It soaked in the garlic dipping sauce just like I remember. The sauce-crust interface melded like a pleasant dream from my childhood. I closed my eyes and passed through a blue mist, into another time and place…. back to Lewisville, on a special night when mom and dad let us order pizza. God Bless Papa John’s.

Living in a world surrounded by aliens, food is often the only familiarity linking my previous and current lives. I have found a Chipoltle- like shawirma place in the mall called “Wrap It”. When the mood strikes, I go there and eat alone at the counter:



Since arrival, my life has been desperately missing bagels. Today, the quest was resolved. I decided to take myself actual grocery shopping. Lo and behold, the grocery store has bagels and cream cheese. The “Kid’s” section of the refrigerated aisle contained a packet hauntingly similar to stringed cheese. All these items and more have been procured and are in storage in my mini fridge.

Whilst grocery shopping, I met an American civil engineer who recommended a bagel bakery and a burrito place. Surly these places will become the stable of my existence.

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