On Tuesday, I got up before dawn and took a plane to Cleveland.

By 7:30pm, I was at the airport for my flight home.  Yes, work day with a really bad commute.

I was exhausted and starving.  After I got through security and found my gate, I looked for the nearest “pub”.  You know the place, it is in every airport, right past the Hudson News Store and just before you can get to the nuts and gummy bear vendor.

I sat at the bar and ordered a “vegetarian-style” house salad.  It arrived and there was lettuce covered by pepperoni, salami, and provolone, all tossed in Italian Dressing.

My server mistook my shock at the lack of vegetables in this carnivorous extravaganza.  So she asked if I wanted “Ranchwiththat”.  It took me a minute.  Ah, did I want Ranching Dressing with that?  Really?  I am trying to reconcile the name and contents of the salad and she wants to introduce another foreign substance.

I was hungry so I dug into the hunks of salami.  But it wasn’t enough.  I know it is hard to believe that I was still hungry after eating about a pound of meat by-products.  So, I ordered chicken wings.  My server asked if I wanted “Ranchwiththat”.   This time I understood.  Nope.

The order came with legs and wings, so I wondered why the menu didn’t say “Buffalo Chicken Parts”.  This was not a very accurate menu.  But — G-d forgive me for saying this — the food was good — for what it was.

Someone came up to the bar and ordered a cup of chili.  It smelled really good.

Now that I had finished my meat-filled “vegetarian style” house salad, and 6 fire-hot Buffalo Chicken Parts, I asked for some chili, no onions and no cheese.

“Cup or crock?” my server asked.

“Crock,” I said.

“Jalapeño peppers?”

“Yep.“

“Ranchwiththat?”

No hesitation.  “Sure.  And by the way the house red is really good!“

Thank G-d I was headed home.  Another minute, I might have lost my New York citizenship.