Sunday before last, Swell Season came to Salt Lake and we really wanted to see them. Unfortunately, tickets were a little out of our price range. The day before, Lorraine excitedly told me about a promotional contest that Whole Foods Salt Lake was doing on their Facebook page. The request was seemingly simple: "...Post your favorite brown bag lunch. We'll pick our fav!" Simple right?
Lorraine eagerly entered her selection:
This, Lorraine informed me, was in fact what she had eaten for lunch the day before. She explained, "Sure, it's pretentious, but I really want to see Swell Season!" I congratulated her on her solid plug of several Whole Foods products.
For those who have never shopped at Whole Foods, let me break it down for you. Their produce is all organic. Their chickens have never seen cages. Their beef has a better quality of life than you do... Minus the whole slaughtering thing. Ethnic foods abound. Health nut moms walk hand in hand with dreadlocked vegans. Tattoos and piercings are considered favorably when applying for positions there. In a nutshell, this place is way cooler than me.
Slowly, other entries trickled in. Each one more outlandish than the next: "Roasted eggplant" ..."nappa cabbage" ..."a thermos full of pho" ..."Ezekiel sprouted grain tortilla". I couldn't take it anymore! The indignation rose within me as this farce was paraded before my eyes. All pretenses of a "brown bag lunch" had been abandoned as the contest quickly spiraled out of control. I had to bring it back on course. I had to compile the perfect brown bag lunch.
Lorraine typed as I dictated each item after painstaking consideration.
"a pizza lunchables..." Plural or singular, it mattered not. I had to bring these people back to the lunchrooms of America.
"a capri sun..." I've never seen soccer moms break out thermoses of pho at halftime.
"flaming hot cheetos..." As I recall, elementary school kids in South Texas weren't suffering from ulcers as a result of too much roasted eggplant.
"and a go-gurt." What's lunch without a healthy dose of probiotics ...and high fructose corn syrup?
As we clicked on the comment button, immortalizing my entry, a monument to real American brown bag lunches, we knew what was at stake. A connection between myself and Lorraine would quickly be made. Their sensibilities would be offended at my brazen entry and all that it implied. We were sacrificing our shot at a great concert. It was a small price to pay.