Strange Whisperings at the Halal Truck

They bamboozled me. They swindled me for all I had and left me ashamed and with far too much lamb for human consumption. Hear this story, and take it as a lesson. Learn from my mistakes.

I went to Philadelphia to visit a friend a few weekends ago. We went out to bars and nightclubs and drank ourselves silly on more than one occasion. Philadelphia has several great watering holes; take my word for it.

The next morning, I woke up to find that my body had waged war against me. My stomach cried out in agony, and my head felt like it had been hit by a bullet. My friend, who also nursed an awful condition, lent me clothes for the day. I forgot to mention that he resembles a hobbit from the Lord of the Rings, and his clothes looked like they could have come from the Gap for kids. The only clothes that remotely fit were a tangerine, Tommy Hilfiger V-neck. The adult small shirt did little to support my adult large frame. I felt like an SUV trying to fit into a compact parking spot. The whole car did not fit within the lines…

My friend also lent me a sparkly pair of women’s sunglasses, which brought the ensemble together. I looked like a half-dead lunatic roaming the streets near Drexel University. We stopped for a coffee, before growing hungry, and visiting different food trucks. There was a row of trucks to choose from, of which I chose to eat at the halal car.

I went to order a gyro, but the man running the truck mumbled back something incomprehensible. I said again lamb gyro, but the man mumbled at me once again. Not hearing what he said, I repeated, “Yes, Lamb.” The man gave a nod and turned to prepare the food. He turned back around a moment later, but Instead of handing me food, he handed me a form to sign. I signed it assuming it was some sort of liability form, or maybe a petition for something. Either way, I did not give it even a first thought. The form stood between my gyro and me.

Finally, after a few more minutes, he placed one gyro, and one lamb platter onto the counter. I did not order the lamb over rice, but I figured it wouldn’t make much of a difference. I handed the sweaty meat merchant my card, and he handed me the food. My friend and I sat and devoured our different meals. I ate every bite of both the gyro and the additional lamb platter. It gave me the ultimate feeling spicy satisfaction.

A few weeks later, I saw the charge on my credit card statement, which came out to be $1,512. I didn’t pay much attention to the price at the time since the most expensive thing on the menu was priced at $8. I could order everything on the menu, and still not have spent hardly anything. Unfortunately, not everything is as simple as ordering a meal, paying for it, and receiving the food. I should have known that cheap, delicious food was too good to be true.

Today, I am part owner of one of Philadelphia’s premier halal trucks. The form, as it turned out, was a contract for the purchase of 15% of the business. If you asked me to choose my truck from a lineup, I can’t imagine that I could differentiate it from the other 50,000 halal trucks in the city. I hope they sell a lot of lamb, because I did plan on starting my investment portfolio with spiced meats. If there is one thing to learn from this, it is to eat more halal. Please. I beg you. Go eat some halal from that truck!

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