For the newbies who don’t actually know me in real life (and yet are somehow magically here reading my blog—thank you), I just graduated from Mount Holyoke College.* What happens when you graduate? All of a sudden you have to move four year’s worth of accumulated stuff home. Oh the joy. To solve this problem, my mom and I loaded up the car and drove from western MA all the way to Chicago.
While on the road, we stopped at an Ohio diner for breakfast. The menu listed Tabasco sauce as it’s own meal item. What is this? Toast options included rye, wheat, etc., and Texas toast. “What is Texas toast?” I asked the waitress.
“Oh, it’s man toast” she replied, as though this were the most obvious response in the world. “Ya know, bigger.” She held up her thumb and first finger to show us that Texas toast is sliced twice as thickly as regular bread.
Me in my head: “Did she just say ‘man toast’? Wtf is this? Who comes up with these things? I must’ve misheard.”
My mom and I shared a look across the table. Judging by her expression, not only had I heard correctly, but Texas toast was apparently a legit thing and this definition was to be taken seriously.
Me out loud: “Oh. Umm I’ll have rye, thanks.”
It was then, staring down at my placemat that doubled as a menu with more product placement than I could handle (Minute Maid orange juice, Premium crackers, Tabasco hot sauce), that I realized my true calling: to chronicle these incomprehensible moments that life hands us—these adventures through heteronormativity.
*The liberal arts haven of critical thinking, sexual and gender fluidity, and optional clothing located in the fine hamlet of South Hadley.