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"Anyway, the last time I took a stranger up on a mysterious meal before a game was... maybe my last season in Seattle? I forgot to get a hero from Giuseppe's down the road from the rink and that totally threw my shit right off. Couldn't even fathom trying to come back from that. So this guy in a security polo tells me, you know, 'hey, I've got an Italian from Giuseppe's back in the office, if you feel like it's gonna get you on your A-game, let me go get it for you.' And I'm desperate, right, so I say sure, he comes back with the sandwich and it's fucking *rank.* I mean, clearly gone bad. I definitely should've known not to eat it but I was fucking starving, so I ate the whole thing and wound up as a healthy scratch in the bathroom all night.

So when some guy in Tampa offered me a similar situation, I at least had the brains to think about it for longer than a minute. Still ate the sandwich though, but this time it wasn't rancid. Not a bad outcome, you ask me."