Pride Goes Before A Falafel

For some reason, New Yorkers like falafel.
“Let’s go out for a falafel,” is a line you hear frequently on TV shows and movies in America. (TV shows, especially sitcoms, are an accurate mirror of current American fad. So, “Let’s go for a falafel,” is an indicator of the food of choice on a cheap date.)
Falafel is best bought from any of the food carts in midtown Manhattan.
Just as I was trying to grab a bite before I left for the airport, one guy asked if would let him cut in front because he had a plane to catch.
Actually, he did not ask. He told me. Then, he bought a brace of falafel and dashed away in a limo. And he did not even thank me.
Oddly, I saw him later. He was on my flight to Chicago, seated across the aisle.
There are many foods people should not carry on airplanes.
Falafel is prime among them.
While he stowed his luggage in the overhead, he forgot that he had placed his falafel bag on the seat.
Falafel makes a distinctive sound when someone sits on it.
Almost as distinctive as the stain—the quickly spreading, oily residue—that a whole paper bag full of falafel leaves on the seat of the trousers of an expensive suit.

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