Battles with the Condiment King
I’ve been very unlucky with condiments. Looking back, I have several embarrassing moments involving crushed red pepper, ketchup and Italian salad dressing.
Picture it: I’m in downtown Pittsburgh going to Point Park College (not yet University), hanging out on Wood Street.
Between Economics and Journalism 101, my classmates and I went out for pizza. Back in the day, getting a square meal was considered ordering Sicilian.
I shook the crushed red pepper dispenser onto my two rectangles of pizza and proceeded to talk, laugh and joke with my friends. At one point, I wiped a tear from my eye. The oil from the hot peppers got on my eyeball. It burned. I couldn’t open my right eye for hours.
I went to journalism class, squinting and twitching the entire time. I hope my professor didn’t think I was winking at him. I did get an A+ though.
Years ago, I was at the big Mickey D’s on Stanwix Street.
Side note: It was the fancy McDonalds with a second floor.
I was having difficulty opening the 2-inch packet of ketchup. I made a small incision in the tiny, ketchup-filled pillow with my teeth. I squeezed it a little too hard, and a laser-like stream of ketchup shot up into the air. It made a scarlet arc through the fast-food joint and splattered onto the tie of a man about two plastic tables away.
I ran over to him with a handful of coarse white napkins, but he had a napkin dispenser on his table, as well. He seemed more amused than angry. He was amazed by my feat, especially since he was the only other person on the second floor. I always imagined he went back to the office and said, “There I was – minding my own business eating a Quarter Pounder with cheese – and from across the restaurant, this ketchup came flying at me.” I also imagine that his co-workers were like, “Just admit it, Walter, you’re a slob.”
The third condiment was Italian dressing.
Side note: Before you send angry letters, salad dressing is a condiment. Some people pour it on hoagies (grinders, submarines, heroes, etc.).
I was a teenager working at a Shop ‘n Save (working my way through college). I was building an end-cap display of plastic bottles of Wishbone salad dressing. I built the display with one case too many, and it began to teeter. I tried to steady it, and a bottle of Italian dressing somersaulted over my arm and went plummeting to the floor.
Since it was a plastic bottle, it didn’t shatter. Instead, it made an onomatopoeia sound like “Schplork!”
The contents (about a tablespoon really) went hurtling through the air and hit a man in the eye. The briny substance caused his eye to close up. My manager helped him flush it out with cold water from the employee restroom.
I wish I thought to do that to my red-crushed-pepper-infused eyeball. We live. We learn.