White Castle enhances the artist's creativity... The allure of the Castle for me is the flavor of the people that come here. If you need background people in your story, come to a White Castle at 2:00 in the morning.
- Adam Kubert in conversation

"Caleb and Lenar go to White Castle"
THE STORY THUS FAR: The Man from Somalia came to us from the fog. He would be the last of my trials. "My car is broke down. Give ride to bus station 4 miles outside of Columbia please," he said to us. Somehow, he made the word "please" sound almost menacing. And during our entire conversation, he held his left hand behind his back in such a way that, were this a bad stage play or cartoon, he'd be concealing a huge knife. And in the back of my head, I imagined that this would indeed be the end of Lenar Clark. The Man from Somalia'd just lean forward and stab me in the chest. Prewitt'd hop into the car and peel out into the fog, leaving me to bleed out at a gas station 40 miles outside of Columbia.

And my last meal would have been White Castle.

We'd missed the movie. A fifteen minute traffic blockage on Eastbound I-70 and our inability to navigate the mean streets of St. Louis dashed any hope of making the 10 o'clock show. And, as per usual, finding White Castle was a bit of a hassle. Fortunately, we didn't have any oddball mock trialers or Mel whimpering in the back this time.

After we found the place, got our customary 20 burgers a piece, and got back on the highway, I figured the worst was over. So you can imagine my surprise to find that the traffic blockage had somehow moved in the Westbound Lane, and as soon as we made it past that, the fog set in, and the world seemed washed out and faded, like Lacuna Inc. was erasing this new miserable experience as it was happening.

And that's when the gas light popped on.

So there we are, hurtling through the lifeline of the Show Me state on empty, and we can't even see far enough to tell if the gas stations are open. And for about twenty miles, I'm having my own private Hanukah, wondering when the engine's going to give up on us, because I'm no stranger to being stranded on 70. It happens all the time. And no sooner do we find a 24-hour Shell Station than we find ourselves face to face with the Man from Somalia.

Of course, he didn't have a knife, and of course, we left him there stranded. As we slipped back into the fog, I saw him approaching a truck driver with the same plea for help. Looking back on it now, I realize how easily our roles could have been reversed, but even with that understanding, I'm still not sure I'd help him. Because I'm not a hero. I'm not even close.

And here's the thing: All this to see a movie I ended up seeing for free in Columbia, just like I should have in the first place. Originally, we were going to go see Garden State, but when we realized that it wasn't coming to the uncultured midwest, Prew-Prew Boo-Boo said he'd be up for going to see Harold and Kumar go to White Castle, and then going to White Castle afterward, and I tell you, that was the last time I'll let him talk me into something with the old "Come on, this is the type of crazy college thing you do in college" routine, and not just because I have a degree now.

Going to St. Louis to see a great movie you can't see anywhere else is one thing. Going to St. Louis to see a popcorn flick you could see at home for free is really kind of sad. And going to St. Louis and not even seeing a movie is just another reason to hate every single day.

And lets not forget what I always forget until about an hour after I've had my first tasty little burger: In the end, White Castle usually ends up putting me on the porcelain throne for some of the most painful moments in my life, only to realize what must be the recurring theme of my life:

I go through all this shit to get the shits.

NEXT:
White's the new Brown.