We teach our kids to be thankful. When someone hands you something; food, money, anything...you say thank you...it doesn't matter, you just do that. Its the right thing to do. I struggled with this rule-of-thumb, when this sad, burnt misunderstood thing was handed to me.
I'll admit my expectations for pizza are low. I'll eat most anything. But this tested my limits and then some. I could only stare at it...poke at it....and wonder...how did this leave the kitchen and be presented to someone to eat? It was nearly cold...actually I've never had a pizza delivered from anywhere that was this cold.
All I could think of was Gordon Ramsey....and the wailing that could be heard if this was presented in the window. I wish I could have seen that...or heard that. Perhaps a small consolation to the fact that this was my meal tonight.
Instead, all that could be heard...from room 205 at a hotel in Fairlawn...was my soft whimpering as I chewed on this leather-hard, almost cold, crunchy-yet-tasteless embarassment of a pizza.