Assorted Idiots - Part II

Part II of the Idiot 'ilogies

We're still at the rest stop.  You're still eyeing the possible antagonists... The grilled sausage sandwich regards you with contempt... You can feel its disdain emanating from its greasy perch under the heat lamp.  The home fries menacingly dare you to chow down on their leathery texture.    The smell of grease and assorted mixed allergens assault your nostrils, as your stomach muscle tightens...  

It has not escaped your notice that your friend has been putting some physical distance between the two of you... She hasn't glanced your way over the past few minutes, and seems to be avoiding any kind of eye contact or acknowledgement of your connection.  She happily trades small talk with the food server, as your sweat glands go into activation...  

You finally determine that the safest choice on the menu has got to be the lone, buttermilk biscuit in the far left corner of the display... It's nested in an area that is seemingly separated from the other foods, the nearest of which are not known allergens... As a matter of fact, there's a full three and a half feet in between the biscuit and the nearest known offender.  Do you dare?  Your friend happily pays for her purchase, and motions that she is going to take a table for the two of you.  She plays "oblivious to your anxiety" almost convincingly....

Ok... You've made the decision -- why are you still uneasy?

The little voice inside your head (note: "the", not "a") says to ask a specific question.  So, you launch into "ingratiate yourself then scare the living bejeezus out of 'em"-mode, greeting the food server energetically, asking how s/he is doing today prior to working "I have a deadly food allergy and I'm wondering whether you might be able to safely accommodate me here today...?" into the conversation.   As expected, the server's eyes pop open, and s/he asks you to repeat what you just said.  You hand over your flash card, and wait for the server to read through it.  You field her/his questions, as s/he rubs her/his chin in contemplation.  The server tells you that s/he can make you plain eggs to go with that buttermilk biscuit.  And now... The question.  

"What type of cooking oil do you use?"

"Vegetable oil.". The server answers without any thought to the fact that this ingredient is on your flash card.  Bolded.

"Vegetable oils are usually a mixture of two or more oils.  Could you please read the ingredients and tell me what they are?"  This is what your intuition had perceived via the ethers... Rightfully, you press.

The server ambles over to the grill, and takes the oil spray can in hand, looking for the ingredients label.  "Hmmm... It says corn and sunflower.  Hey, that's on your list."

You're hungry.  "Was it used to prepare the biscuit?"

"I'm not sure.  We don't make them here... I wonder if we have the ingredients for the biscuit somewhere..."

You look at the display again, and notice a gleaming layer of something resembling oil or grease along the bottom of the display.  You realize that you're probably going to be really hungry for some time to come... Unless you pop open one of your pistachio snack bags.  And you've been snacking,  handful at a time for the past couple of hours... You were really hoping for something other than this birdfood....  In your haze, you hear the server pipe up that they do "throw" the biscuits on the grill for a quick "browning" of their tops.  You thank her/him for her/ his efforts politely, and then turn to find your friend... Who is inhaling massive quantities of untouchable food.  Your stomach growls audibly, as all you can do is watch her eat.

What a garish sight.