[ A large red Wawa cup sits on my desk. Sticking out of it is a fork, with a meatball stuck on it. ]
So for a couple-three years I ran errands almost every Friday, which means I called my mom almost every Friday, & I nearly always managed to catch her right about when she was in the middle of a Wawa meatball hoagie.
I grew up in the Philly suburbs going to Wawa. They’re just a fact of life in that part of the world. & I love Wawa’s meatball hoagies with unreasonable love.
& the closest Wawa to where I live, here in Colorado, is one thousand, one hundred thirteen point three two miles from here. In Alabama.
I hadn’t had Wawa meatballs in FAR too long. & there’s my mom on the phone, every Friday, making mmm-mmm & slurp noises, because she’s a BUTT.
So I’d beg her to send me some. It wouldn’t be hard! Get a bunch, stick em in the freezer, shove em in a box with a whole lot of packing peanuts. In the middle of winter. It’d be fine! Surely if she loved me, she’d send me some meatballs!
Spoiler: she did not send me any meatballs.
BUT! My beloved roommate Morgyn took pity on me! & on the way home from Pennsic this August, after a brief visit to their family home in Maryland, stopped at a Wawa in the general Lanham area & bought me a bunch of meatballs. & then stuck em in a cooler with a bag of ice.
My friends, they were the best damn meatballs I’ve eaten in my entire. Life. & hell YEAH I sent my mom a picture.
Her response? “What the what??” I may possibly have laughed like a hyena. It was a beautiful thing.
Now I just need someone to stop at Corropolese on their way out here, buy me a whole bunch of tomato pie, & shove it in a cooler with a bag of ice …
(ngl, any of y’all show up here with a full sheet classic tomato pie gets your choice of faerie home decor, plus probably more soap than you’ll use in the rest of your life. Bonus points if you get em to put the Methacton logo on it with parmesan.)
