DEC 5, 2024 | OPINION | By Asa Gartrell
Ask yourself, my friends: is it possible to elevate the pleasure of dining and recreating by doing both simultaneously? Or should the twain forever be separate? I took a trip to Whirlyball to find out.
My principles urge me to claim that multitasking never improves a meal. But where expectations are few, disappointments are rare. And I was happy to honor Walter Sobchak on Veteran’s Day weekend, even if it meant rolling on Shabbas.
And so I clip-clopped across the lacquered lanes towards an important lesson: the smell of feet can only be tamed by the tempting vapors of a hamburger. I ordered the Pikes Peak Burger and soon found my left hand, which, moments before, was plunged deep in the microbiome of the fingerholes in my 11-pound rock, wrapped around the heft of a half-pound Angus piece. I was dinin’ laneside.
Mmm. Bedecked with two onion rings, a cheddar single, and the usual players, the sammy met expectations with flying colors. The “vine-ripened” tomatoes tasted like cold water. Otherwise, the thing did its job. Sinusoidal sheets of lettuce crunched hearteningly and the onion rings were a pleasant pastiche of tempura’s fluffy crackle. The patty was a balanced medium. It breaks my heart to say it, but all the burger needed was creativity, especially at 16 smackaroos, plus tax. If Whirlyball spent half as much energy crafting their handhelds as they do spit-shining the floor, this baby could hit high notes. For the record, my streak of five gutterballs (two sub-50-point games) may have exaggerated its deficiency.
Overall, I’d liken this finger-greasing fella to lateral epicondylitis, or tennis elbow: a great excuse for slinging two 7s and a long line of goose eggs. Stay focused. My best to you and yours.