The Cheeseburger Was Worth The Risk

This Saturday, while waiting in a restaurant to enjoy a good ol’ fashioned American cheeseburger, a huge and forceful BOOM echoed from above and the entire place was suddenly covered with a thin layer of wood chunks, sawdust, and dirt.

Looking up, the ceiling was just a whole bunch of long wooden planks supported by a couple of metal cross beams. So, in theory, that mysterious BOOM brought my fellow diners and me one step closer to also enjoying a good ol’ fashioned American cave in. Which would have probaby totally sucked.

But thinking about the experience later on, I realized that a very small part of me—we’re talking 0.5 or 0.75 of a percent here—part of me was actually disappointed the place didn’t cave in. 'Cause imagine it: that would've meant dying in some stupid crappy restaurant, while waiting for a cheeseburger. It reeks of some strange cosmic perfection that, when you think about it, is pretty hilarious.

If I do die in some totally mundane way, I hope people will say: “Well at least Chris died doing what he loved. Waiting for a cheeseburger.”

Or: “At least Chris died doing what he loved. Buying Q-Tips.”

Or: “At least Chris died doing what he loved. Smelling expired milk in his fridge.”

Or whatever. Chris loves everything almost.