So I’ve been back in San Luis Obispo for approximately six weeks now, and after being sure to hit up all the food groups every day of the week, by the time Friday comes, it’s time to let someone else do the cooking.
While San Luis Obispo is often praised for its quirky, little small-town vibe, I’ve found that there is somewhat of a downside to this: there aren’t too many restaurants to choose from.
Don’t get me wrong. Firestone is great, and if I had to eat it for every meal for the rest of my life there, I probably could (given that I’d have an endless supply of wet-naps). However, I like to add a little variety to my life.
Earlier in the week, some people in the newsroom started talking about craving In-N-Out. That craving quickly spread faster than chicken pox in a preschool, and a few of us decided that we needed In-N-Out, and we needed it ASAP.
So, we piled into a car and powered down Highway 101 until we saw those bright lights and the crossed palm trees that could only mean one thing: top-notch, greasy deliciousness.
Well, apparently we weren’t the only people on the Central Coast who needed to get their fix. Evidently, all of the local high schoolers needed to fill up on animal-style fries before they tried to sneak into Paranormal Activity 3 (speaking of, when is the third of anything ever successful?). Some of them were even classy enough to wear their fanciest pajamas — God bless America.
Anyway, after waiting in line behind the pre-pubescent mob for what seemed like way too long, I still couldn’t decide what I wanted. When you move from a big city to San Luis Obispo, In-N-Out becomes a rare and sacred thing, and you can’t just take it for granted. You have to do it right, and savor every moment.
I couldn’t decide, so I knew what I had to do: go big, or go home. I ended up ordering a number three, and a chocolate milkshake.
I managed to finish my entire meal before any of my friends (I’m pretty sure my future may hold morbid obesity). I wasn’t even a little bit ashamed, I felt like a champ.
But then, I got home.
In the middle of an intense round of Catchphrase, the In-N-Out hit us. Instead of finding the perfect words to convey “lint roller” to the other players, all I could say was, “I’m gonna throw up, I’m gonna throw up, I’m gonna throw up.”
Luckily, I didn’t throw up. But, I did see a drunk leather-clad freshman throwing up on my way home that night (glad I’m not that girl).
The moral of this story is simple: while top-notch, greasy deliciousness may be a rare delicacy to the Cal Poly student, it should be consumed with caution.