I usually get hungry about 3 minutes after arriving in class. It doesn’t take particularly long, but soon after the professor begins some sort of important and midterm-relevant lecture, my stomach announces its emptiness to the room in a manner so distracting that I am forced to ignore the professor and doodle in my notebook for the entire class period.
It’s exhausting.
One day, while sitting in my English Critical Theory class learning about the different ways I could draw WWII airplanes in the margins of my notes, I felt the trumpeting of my stomach to an exciting degree.
Upon exeunt from the class [stage left], I acquired the companionship of my friend (who has requested that I use a pseudonym in this blog to protect his Dignity) and together we made our way to the next location on my list of Gyro spots on campus:
Falafel and Gyro House!
The most exciting moment here was that the student combo meal was only $4.09. My friend, “Sir Rodolfo of Westminster” was as thrilled as I was to be able to purchase fries, soda and a gyro for less than it takes to park a car. The Falafel and Gyro House is located on 15th, just off of High Street, which is pretty much smack-dab in the dead center of campus.
And smack-dab is an excellent turn-of-phrase.
But anyways, my friend, “Jack Warmonks, Plummer to the Stars” and I gathered our extremely cheap Gyro combo meals and high-tailed it across the ever-happening High Street in order to sit on a bench on the Oval.
There, under the guise of studious participants in the college-experience, my friend “Weston Simpleruse, Dolphin Trainer/self-proclaimed Rock Hound” and I unwrapped the gyros.
We began to eat.
Nom nom nom.
Now, while “Richard ‘The Yellow Dart’ McKinnieas” and I sat on the beautifully yellowing Oval’s edge, our conversation floated between what we were thoughtfully consuming and when it was reasonable for a girl to wear leggings.
You see, my friend “Wallearth Brimley, diabetic dwarf” was well aware of the purpose of our eating a gyro on the Oval (ahem, this blog). And so, he took it upon himself to help me in appraising the gyro/freedom fry combo.
Our conversation went something like this:
Leonard: “this is good.”
Me: [loudly chewing] “what? I can’t hear you over my chewing.”
Leonard: “I am as happy as a clam, eating this.”
Me: [loudly chewing] “THERE ARE CLAMS IN THIS!?”
[long pause]
Me: [swallows] “Oh, right.”
Leonard: “I was sort of hoping you would choke just then.”
Me: “your mom-”
Leonard: “-stop.”
The conversation carried on in this academic vein for several minutes. During this time, my friend, “Mayor McCheese” and I collectively agreed that:
A: There are no clams in the gyro.
B: The gyro was delightful.
C: There was, perhaps, more sauce than we would have liked.
D: The restaurant owners were particularly friendly.
E: Leggings confuse us, as a fashion statement.
F: The French fries were a little too “fresh” and “real” for us.
G: We have low expectations for French fries.
H: We have low expectations for France.
I: Actually, France is pretty cool.
i. Yeah, France is pretty cool.
J: The combo meal was amazingly affordable and the quality of the meat and fries (even if we don’t appreciate quality French fries) for such a price was impressive.
K: There is no way that Transformers are real and living among us.
So, to give you a sort of conclusion on the idea about the Falafel and Gyro House on 15th, we both really enjoyed it. The place gained major points for its affordability (one of the cheapest lunch spots on campus!) and still maintaining high-quality food.
Since my friend, “The Archbishop of Funk” had not yet tried Ali Baba’s, he was unable to compare the two meals. I, however, found Ali Baba’s shwarma (the Middle Eastern equivalent to a gyro) to be a smidge more savory than the Falafel and Gyro House gyro. But, the taste advantage was probably not worth the $2 and change difference in price.
In the end, “Vladimir Baikov, Cosmonaut to the Stars” and I tidied up our bench and stumbled, full and satisfied, onto the crisp Oval lawn. Together, we had vanquished and (ineffectively?) appraised the second challenger in the GYRO GAUNTLET:
The Falafel and Gyro House
But, the search for the perfect gyro continues! Look up! Look down! Look out! For the next installment of THE GYRO GAUNTLET!
-Andrew
p.s. my friend’s real name is “Simba, heir apparent to Pride Rock”