(Sometimes, a food truck is just a truck)
Dear Pretzels,
I don't have too much to be proud of in my time in Charm City, but I'm proud that I've managed to stay alive and not ride in a single gypsy cab in 2.25 years. I've only been in a stranger' once in all this time. Not bad, huh?
Today, I add "not getting sick from possibly shady truck masquerading As food truck" onto that list. Sure, the truck didn't seem to have proper ventilation, sure it only took cash (so did the fancier truck park next to it-- stop evading taxes, Businesses of Bmore), and sure I was the only person I saw buying from the truck, but my fish sandwich was hot and fried to order. It was not a rip off (cough, truck next door, cough). The guy peeking his head from his window was super nice (again, cough, truck next door). And I got a story out of this. All I had to do was gamble with my gastrointestinal system.
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