Long time readers are familiar with the ongoing debate between me and Hutch, my pal and fellow burger aficionado, about In-N-Out versus Tommy’s and which classic LA burger reigns supreme. Hutch has always been a fervent promoter of In-N-Out’s fresh flavors, while I’ve been steadfast in my dedication to Tommy’s chili-drenched awesomeness. How ironic that in the end, something that had pulled us apart led us to come together as one, if only for a fleeting moment…
Last week Hutch and I decided to try an experiment: Put Tommy’s chili on an In-N-Out burger and see what happens. Maybe the theory was, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em together? Sounds simple, and it might have been if the joining-together had stopped at the bun and not enveloped our very identities.
At 12 noon on Tuesday I brought some warm Tommy’s chili in a to-go cup and Hutch brought a freshly bagged Double-Double to the Apple Pan parking lot, which we’d chosen because it was neutral territory and close to our respective places of employ. Hutch opened the burger and set it on the hood of his car, I poured on the chili and cut the thing in half. We each took a bite.
First the basics: Tommy’s chili makes a burger taste great, as do the fresh ingredients from In-N-Out. So it tasted good. Then this happened:
“Mmm, pretty good,” we both said at the same time and in the same voice. We realized suddenly and simultaneously that we were sharing the same consciousness. We looked down at the burger and our combined mind was confused by the juxtaposition of Hutch’s vision and mine, and it was then that we realized (without saying a word for we knew we’d never need to speak again to “each other” for there was no “other,” only the one) that what we needed to do was join our bodies together, right away. Not in a sexual way; though at first we did try kissing, because we didn’t know what else to do, but it didn’t do anything. It wasn’t weird like kissing your bro, it was like kissing yourself, it was meaningless. Then – again without conferring – we each took several steps back and ran right at each other. We did this several times and it only gave us a headache and a bloody nose. We thought that maybe the answer was a further joining of the food, and since we’d also brought fries from our respective restaurants we tried to join them together, not by mixing the orders but slamming individual fries together to join them as one. Soon the pavement was littered with smashed potatoes and our knuckles were bloodied, and our combined existence was no more solidified than before. It was painful, this purgatory between our “selves” and the oneness we felt was just beyond our grasp.
We didn’t have much time to contemplate the philosophical implications of our ecstatic crisis of identity, as we realized as one that our lunch breaks were pretty much winding down and we needed to get back to work – but which job? Before the spontaneous singularity “Hutch” had worked at RadioShack and “Ray,” had worked at my Aunt Carol’s medical billing office, but where did HutchRay work? Without speaking (because again no conversation is necessary “between” one person) we decided to take Hutch’s Dodge pickup because of the roomier cab and us figuring some sort of driver’s-seat-sharing was in order. It was a bumpy ride to say the least, as we kept switching who was on whose lap due to neither configuration feeling like an adequate arrangement of our one-self, but we did finally careen into the parking lot of the medical building where “Ray” worked, figuring Aunt Carol might be more sympathetic to our situation than “Hutch”’s supervisor Nelson. We stumbled into the office running on top of each other’s feet and when Aunt Carol recovered from her startle, she barely got out “Hi, Hutch – Ray, you’re late” before we bellowed “Carol, you need to acquire the Westwood RadioShack and move it into this office immediately!” In retrospect it was an outlandish demand but you can see how at the time it was the only logical way for HutchRay to continue with a sensible workday; regardless, Carol could not get past the fact that we were talking in unison, and quite loudly, which she first took as a prank until she decided we were having some sort of simultaneous manic episode. As we were getting nowhere fast, we clambered back into the Dodge and hurtled up to the ‘Shack, where Nelson was already standing by the door looking at his watch because “Hutch” was late.
While Carol was perplexed by our singularity, Nelson had no interest or sympathy for RayHutch whatsoever. We attempted to convince him of the need to incorporate medical billing procedures into the RadioShack’s offerings but he just dismissively mumbled something about “high on the job again,” and then informed “Hutch” that “he” was fired. When we argued that at the very least he needed to fire “me” as well, he threatened to phone the police. We ran.
Next, we leapfrogged our way to Barney’s Beanery where we drank twice as much as we’d normally drink to get drunk (meaning HutchRay drank four times as much as a normal person might drink– it went faster with two mouths) before we worked up the singular courage to contact my wife Sharon and Hutch’s wife Jane and convince them – starting small this time – that a joint “family dinner” at me and Sharon’s place was absolutely necessary that night. They eventually agreed, and since we had a few hours to kill we kept drinking.
The evening was a blur – at least one half of each of us blacked out completely. What we do know is that we tried and failed to convince Hutch’s wife Jane to sleep with “Ray” and my wife Sharon to sleep with “Hutch,” then successfully convinced them to sleep with each other, before they eventually threw RayHutch out.
We were back to “normal” when we woke up the next day in the flatbed of the Dodge pickup– I was me and Hutch was Hutch – but we will never be the same. To say nothing of the damage we did – Hutch is unemployed, Aunt Carol won’t let me come back to work until I get some sort of evaluation, and as far as we know our wives are still together somewhere (though not together in the way we were, they’ll never understand) – but beyond that we will always know how close we were to something greater, something amazing that we will never see again. Continuing to go through the motions of a normal life seems pointless.
Rating: 3 ½ Buns
