Awful Falafel

So I take off for lunch today, and I'm mulling over the different options. You know the three main food groups, hamburgers, tacos or pizza. Anyway I'm drivin along when I have a moment of clarity. Today is Tuesday, and Tuesday is Farmers Market day. Farmer's Markets are a freakin joygasms waiting to happen. There's food, fresh veggies and best of all...people. I love to watch people. Not in the strange guy in the corner with a trench coat kinda way, but in a sort of fly on the wall manner. I get to see five minutes of another person or persons' life and from there get to try to imagine what things must be like for that person. Take for instance the old couple I saw carrying a life time's supply of asparagus and beets. (Seriously, I'm pretty sure your urine would burn a hole through the back of the toilet if you ate that much asparagus.) Anyway, I'm munching along on my falafel pocket (more to follow on that topic shortly) and I'm watching this old guy walking with his wife. They're older, like in their 70's, and he's chewing on some treat he bought from one of the stands like a rabid squirrel. (There is something about old guys and chewing. They don't really move their jaws up and down. It's more of a circular motion that seems to grind their food rather than chew it.) Anyway, grandpa is mowing along on his treat and grandma is following along a few steps behind. (it was weird, I didn't even know they were together until he turned around and grunted at her to keep up. Oh to be old and not give a crap if you're never going to be getting any again.) Now grandma looks like she is Kathy Bates's clone from the movie Misery. Honestly, if she had walked up to me and told me she was my biggest fan I would've worn brown on my backside for the rest of the day. So squirrel master and my #1 fan are trucking along with enough asparagus to kill a small herd of sheep and I'm enjoying every moment of it chomping on my falafel. I freakin love the farmers market!

So while we're on this topic, let's pause for a second to discuss the culinary treat that is falafel. I'm not jewish, I don't really even know any jews personally, but I feel like dancing the Hora when I put falafel in my mouth. It's crunchy and moist all in one bite, and the sauce that they put on the falafel is, quite frankly, what I believe to be liquid in its most pure form. If you have never tried falafel, go to the farmers market at the todos santos shopping area in Concord on Tuesdays for lunch. There you will find a small window to heaven known to us mortals as...a falafel stand. It's right next to the crepe stand (don't.get.me.started.) and the Aids Testing table.

Yes I am aware that I just brought up a topic that really wouldn't be what one would think of as a great advertisement for my beloved market, but don't worry, I'm not even sure that they DO any testing there. The whole time I was there eating my lunch I just saw a couple of overweight women talking to a guy that had one of those bluetooth headsets that just screams, "hi I shop for electronics at 7-11!" But the table and its inhabitants are key to my final story about the farmers market. So I'm all done eating (thank the good Lord in heaven) and I'm throwing away my garbage when Hannah the Hacker comes by and crop dusts the open field of my face with her mucus induced spasms. We've all seen people like this. You know the type of person that slept through that video in health class that shows a person sneezing in slow-mo. They walk around like a germy rainbird spraying forth their sickness and plague from one unsuspecting victim to the next, all the while not understanding the protocol of sneezing and or coughing into your arm. I just want to carry around a spray bottle of my own urine and the next time one of these jerks decides to shower me with bacteria I'll spray them back and then when the inevitable WTF?! comes rolling of their tongue, I'll just roll MY eyes at their sissyness and spray them again.

So there I am feelin like a Ghosbuster fresh off a meeting with slimer and as I begin to wipe the goo from my face I turn to one of the lady's at the Aid's testing table and say (loudly enough for the hacker and all those around to hear) "You don't test for Typhoid too do you?" She just stared at me with all the intelligence of a cow chewing its cud and Hanah Hacker disappeared into the crowed spraying bacteria everywhere she goes. Joygasm, I love the farmers market.