The Worst Roadside Meal I Ever Chose (And What I Clearly Haven’t Learned)

I was on my way to hang out with a buddy in Vermont. He was running late. I was hungry and hoping something better than hot brown was available. Never a good combination.

So I stopped for gas and made the mistake of grabbing a slice of gas station pizza.
You’d think someone who’s driven across the country more times than he can count would know better. Apparently not.

I rolled into my friend’s place, cracked a Guinness, and within an hour the pizza filed a formal complaint with my entire digestive system.

I spent the rest of the night acquainting myself with the cold tile of his bathroom floor, reflecting on the poor choices that led me there. He was incredibly supportive. Mostly by laughing at me.

The next morning I emerged humbled… but not changed.

Because here’s the truth:

I still trust roadside fried chicken. I still roll the dice on gas station burritos. And if you think I’m walking past a place less than Buc-ee’s, 7-11 or Wawa without getting something I’ll possibly later regret? Absolutely not.

Some lessons stick. Some don’t. And some are just part of the road.