I just did something I already regret. I had a hamburger. Not just any hamburger either, but one completely devoid of worth. Worse than a waste of calories, it was practically a killing meal.
In case you’re wondering if it at least tasted good, no it didn’t. Like I said, devoid of worth.
The joke on me is that I thought I was ordering the vegetarian option. See, I’m a spoiled Californian. When I go to a hamburger place and see portobello mushroom as one of the hamburger options, I think it’s a grilled portobello mushroom instead of a hamburger patty.
But I’m not in California, I’m in Texas. The San Antonio airport, to be exact. So… It’s beef with a few mushroom pieces on top. Along with grilled onions and .. well, it was supposed to have Swiss cheese, but I confess I couldn’t find it.
Sounds good, though, right? So I shrugged and took a bite. Now it wasn’t awful or anything. No reason to immediately spit it out and refuse to eat it. I wish it had been that bad. It was just… meh. Sort of tasteless, which is hard to do to grilled portobello and onions, but they managed it.
About halfway through the thing, I noticed I was fighting a lot of grease. As in, driping off my fingers. I did a little inspection, then turned it over to examine the bottom if it. The bottom bun was saturated with grease. I lifted the bun off. It was soaked all the way through. I squeezed it like a wet dish rag. Grease literally oozed from the bread onto my napkin.
So now my stomach feels leaden and I’m really wishing I hadn’t eaten that thing. It may take a month to get over the damage.
You should avoid Steaks and Shakes in the San Antonio airport.
Just sayin’.
Marlene Dotterer 
Ah, yes, the joy of mystery meals in your own country. Reminds me of when we moved from California to Massachusetts in the late ’60s. I ordered a milk shake and got . . . milk and sugar that had been shaken, not stirred. Turns out if you wanted a milkshake at that time in those parts you ordered a frappe.