Just took the bike out to run some errands and got excited when I passed a falafel truck in an MIT parking lot. I haven’t had a cheap falafel sandwich for eons, and I thought it would be a nice junk food combo with the biking not driving, tanned and non-nail biting me.

I circled closer and thought about falafel or falafel and hummos and a little kid leans out of the passenger seat and yacks on the asphalt.

While I can imagine a whole lot of reasons a maybe eight-year-old boy might be yawning out some bile that has nothing to do with the quality of the food or food-borne viral disease, I just couldn’t go through with the transaction.

In the minute it took to wheel my bike around and leave, the poor kid’s mom had sent him around to the side of the truck along side a fence and weeds and rocks to wretch alone privately.

I think diet coke and hermetically crackers will be my late lunch.