"12"^^ . . "3"^^ . . "2013-03-18T00:00:00"^^ . "2"^^ . "5"^^ . . "I've never quite been a fan of Hero, their burgers mediocre, their prices too high. I am a fan, however, of maintaining the strong social bond only formed when a group of co-workers peer pressure you to spending money on food you don't necessarily want. Ya know, being a team player. Unfortunately that drive towards team-playerability would prove hazardous to my well-being (and sure-footedness) on a fine March 14th lunch.\n\nArriving shortly before the lunch rush we came into an empty restaurant ready to \"get our Hero on\" (marketing team, that's on me). After placing my order, rearranging some finances, and promising my future second born (first born child contracts are soooo BCE) we found a table and sat down amidst an invisible fog of oil which clogged every 9 out of 10 of my smell receptors and clung to my clothes like a cute koala on a eucalyptus tree. I was number 9.\n\nAfter what seemed about 10 minutes or so my number was called. \"Victory!\", I thought as bells rang through the chambers of my stomach. Standing up I looked upon my fellow friends and customers, no longer numerically challenged was I. I was the next to be sequentially chosen. I was a winner. I was number 9.\n\nThe first two steps towards hunger satiation were simple: Left, followed by right. I've done it a million times before, even a billion perhaps, \"I got this\"...or so I thought.\n\nOn the third step of my march towards the counter, I began to slip, not a 'w-w-w-woaaah that was a close one' slip. This was a, \"better protect my face in case there's an open casket\" slip. \n\nWith less friction between me and the ground than between an overly religious couple before marriage, all hope of recovery was lost. That is, until I found hope of recovery with a chair right next to me, \"I'm saved!\". In desperation I did a half-quarter spin, grabbed the chair with my right hand, prayed to a God that hasn't even been invented yet and attempted to regain balance. \n\nIt was too late, the chair and I together crashed like it was 1929 all over again. With my body, my new chair friend and my dignity on the floor I took the march of shame towards my combo. Oddly, I had a sudden loss of appetite but proceeded anyway.\n\nArriving at the counter I was greeted with a blank stare and a \"ya ok?\". Ok I was, but what I really was looking for was, oh I don't know, someone to actually pick up a mop, paper towel, set of napkins, group of sewn together sponges or anything to pick up the spilled milkshake that apparently had been biding its time, waiting to strike before we even got there.\n\nWe sat at our table, ate our meals at a comfortable pace, and just as we were about to leave, about 45 minutes after 'the incident', I hear a disproportioned set of wheels finally rolling towards the scene.\n\nI have asked myself many questions since that day. Why wouldn't they spend the 20 seconds to mop up the spill they knew was there when it happened? Why wait 45 minutes after I fell to even do anything? Who was this mystery spiller and did he get a replacement milkshake? What sort of higher being would allow my video game and space bar thumb to suffer so?\n\nTo these questions I'll never find an answer, for those lie with someone who arrived before I. Perhaps number 3, or number 7, even number 1. None of which was me, for I was number 9.\n\nThe burger wasn't bad."^^ .