Dang. When I worked for the “Silver Star” (see Population 485) ambulance service, we used to stop here all the time.
More than once we picked up an order and got paged out before we could dig in, and I remember working some pretty heavy-duty calls with the smell of broasted chicken hanging in the air. I took it as a good sign that once the patient or body was dropped off and the rig cleaned up and put back together I was still hungry and able to eat on the drive back to headquarters.
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