The Pursuit of Happiness

It's true, I've become another vermin in the never-ending Rat Race. And while I am exhausting every corridor in this maze, I have not yet found a way out. Rest assured, I will not go quietly into the night. Whether this race is governed by public or private entity, the cunning plan is apparent. With so much cheese, it is easy to see how mice become content and bloated, thereby unwilling or unable to escape. The race, the race, the race. It can consume so much thought as to distract a mouse from even smaller trifles. Worse yet, inside the maze, good becomes bad and bad becomes good. Take, for example, a night out with friends at a Mexican restaurant. In this case, Mucho Gusto.

Sitting down with great expectations, I noticed several complimentary baskets of chips and bowls of salsa. What a delightful surprise, this place must be good, I thought ... which is exactly what the Race would have me think. How wrong I was.  "Would you like another basket of chips, Sir" is not a question at all, rather a crafty imperative sentence in sheep's clothing. Needless to say, by the time my meal arrived, I was nearly fulfilled on free, free, free.

The spicy pork tacos stared into my eyes as the sweet aroma rose into my snout. Whether by smell, financial responsibility, or compulsion, I forced the trough into my mouth. Yes, the squealing was painful to my ears, but I was uncertain if the noise derived from the pork itself or from some part of me. Clearly, the Race had won, and I had lost. I finished the meal, and like a pig to the slaughter, I rolled to the car. The party relocated to a friend's apartment nearby. En route, I had ample time to ponder the dinner events ... I lost, I lost, I lost.

I cannot presume that each member of our party was as bloated as I, but I can say with some confidence that each partook of the chips and salsa. Sadly, these chips, stained red with each stab into the salsa bowl, were the highlight of the meal. However, the facts aforementioned and herein are trivial compared to the wedges I next attempted to pursue, or the lack thereof, I should say. My teammate and I were full from mediocre Mexican food, and when the night ended, we were empty handed ... without one Trivial Pursuit: 90s Edition wedge.

I suppose the point may not be apparent to the reader, so let me clarify. Feeling so satisfied by free food, I still paid for and completed a healthy-sized meal. I was thus left full on satisfaction and empty on knowledge.

And so I still wander in the maze of life.