Tonight the barbecue food truck came to my apartment. I had been thinking about it since around lunchtime and was imagining sinking my teeth into some pulled pork. I changed into my comfy clothes when I got home, so I started looking for some more presentable clothes to change into when it was time to go to the food truck. I quickly decided it wasn’t a big deal when I couldn’t find anything right away.
I got in line directly in front of the window, but kept having to move to the side to let cars pass by. A guy made a comment that he got tired of doing that, so he just stayed to the side. I told him that was a good idea and got in line beside him. He asked if I’d ordered from this truck before and said he really enjoyed it last time. I told him that I did too. We discussed the menu and noticed that there were some items hand-written on the menu that were not there the last time the truck came. The guy ordered the pulled pork plate with Brunswick stew and potato salad. I asked him what Brunswick stew was. He described it and I thought it sounded kind of weird but told him it sounded good. When he was given his tray, he stepped to the side so I could order while he put sauce on his food. I ordered the pulled pork plate with macaroni and cheese and cowboy beans. The owner told me he was out of macaroni and I clutched my heart in mock anguish. I decided on potato salad instead. While the owner prepared my tray, the guy from earlier told me to let him know how the cowboy beans were. I told him that I would while wondering if I would even see him again. He looked familiar, so maybe I had seen him around and might again, but he also had the same look that a lot of guys do and I couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was just making conversation about my beans because I’d asked about his stew.