The Worst Meals Of My Life (That I Can Recall)

In no particular order, and doesn't include any meals I may have cooked myself, because they are all equally terrible, and expected to be terrible (except my breakfasts - they KILL). Why today? Who knows...

Applebee's, Bangor, ME, summer 2001: running late, on the way back from Boston, having seen Ben Harper and "The Dave Michaels Band" from the top row of a football stadium, surrounded by drunken frat boys and their skanks, we decided to pull into the Bangor Mall for a quick bite. I ordered the fish and chips, not expecting such a debacle in coastal Maine of all places. Mistake. Fries ("chips") were mushy as shit - why? Because the grody fishsticks were still frozen in the middle and leaking disgusting fishy fish-water onto the rest of the plate. Everyone else had a good laugh about that. I still ate a disturbing amount, and didn't complain, because I'm a sucker.

The Rusty Anchor, Pleasant Bay, NS, fall 2006: on trip number infinity around the Cabot Trail, we pulled into this CB landmark out of pure desperation. Our first clue that this establishment might be something of a health hazard (aside from the name) was the dozens of flies bouncing off of the picture windows next to our table, and the hundreds more that were dead and dying, trapped on an endless string of fly-tape that circled the entire restaurant like some Tim Burton Christmas decoration. I ordered a chowder (a safe bet I thought), Terri ordered a ham sandwich (an even safer bet). Well, apparently Rusty Anchor "chowder" is warm milk with scant, unidentifiable, canned seafood products and potato chunks floating in it. Mmm. Terri's sandwich consisted of a single deli ham slice and Kraft single on Ben's white bread. Mmm. Again, I crushed a few dozen crackers into my "chowder" and ate every drop. Sucker.

The Apple Barrel, Halifax, NS, winter 2002: pre-Mooseheads game, running late, the Plum and Midtown were full. My meal - the Monte Carlo sandwich, which sounded pretty good on the menu - a BLT made on French toast and drowned in syrup, with a heaping serving of fries on the side. Sweet. Jesus. I could only eat half, and probably scarred everyone in my vicinity at the game with my moaning and complaining and unyielding gas. This monster haunts me to this day; my digestive system has yet to forgive me.

I'm sure there are more - a gross sandwich with a side order of steamed peas (!?) at some piece of shit restaurant outside of Keji stands out, along with a legendary meal at a British friend's house in elementary school - but these are all I can be bothered to write. Also, I think I may have posted on all of the above stories before - if so, please pretend you haven't heard them already, like all of those recycled Simpsons story lines we still kind of enjoy...

Positivity will be my theme for this new fiscal year. Yay team!