Everybody gets all het up about Oedipus marrying his mama.
And, you know, as well they should. But the lead up to all that is equally if not more important and often gets lost in the shuffle. The thing is, Oedipus was pretty securely convinced that he was hard core, and that’s where his trouble begins. It’s called Hubris – the kind of excessive pride that has you spearing guys in the road when they’re a little less than courteous, or shutting down Sphinxes to win a kingdom. Oedipus’s hubris made him think he was due all that and more, and only after he’d gotten all that did he realize what the “and more” was about.
I can speak authoritatively on this because I know a thing or two about hubris, first hand. Oedipus had Jocasta (or Mom, depending on when you tune in). Me? I’ve got a grilled pimento cheese sandwich with bacon.
In the early days after my little man made his entrance, I discovered the wonders the constant anxiety, sleep deprivation, constant vigilance and a full time job can work on a papa’s waistline. Even in those first few months, the Dude was not a baby to be set down – the man was always busy, always interested in whatever was just over there. And he was almost always calmed by walking outside, so we’d almost always go walking outside, sometimes for hours at a time. Add to this a daily bike commute and an already physically active job, and you’ve got a recipe for a man who loses weight no matter how many chocolate croissants he packs away.
This has, of course, changed. Sleep occurs, anxiety can only be sustained for so long before it’s just another Tuesday. But as long as I try to match the pace my son sets I manage to keep from buying new pants. And if I eat a little better, then I even begin to get a little lighter.
What all this means is that as long as I don’t do it often, I can indulge pretty much without consequence. And so, when visiting Revival Restaurant in Minneapolis, specializing in Southern Cuisine, done simply and well, I couldn’t resist. Where someone who surfs a desk and has more than 30 minutes every other day to watch the Daredevil series might – wisely – think twice about a grilled pimento cheese and bacon sandwich with a side of hush puppies, this papa, who bikes 60-80 miles a week and carries tables up and down stairs professionally, this papa just dives right in.
I’m here to tell you, don’t do it. Don’t have my hubris. Learn from my mistakes. That sandwich was a gastric bloodsport won only in the pyrrhic sense. It was like being pregnant with a three pound ball of play doh for a day and a half.
I mean, it was delicious, don’t get me wrong. But it was richer than the Koch brothers with all of Dubai stuffed down their pants. The bacon itself was cut so thick my toddler could stand on it and reach the top of the fridge. Maybe get it to share with a few dozen of your closest friends.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to eat a salad made entirely of bean sprouts and Tums.