I think I can.
The problem with restaurants in college towns is that they're staffed by people who are struggling to get through school, working 60 hours a week at three different part-time jobs just trying to get by. Meanwhile, the customers are all people who can afford to eat in restaurants - the kind who only take the silver spoons out of their mouths to tell you how much better than you they are. This leads to some rather unnatural natural consequences.

If you're partial to pizza ...

... you should probably skip the rest.

Spitting on food is one thing - well, one of the things that happens all the time - but we could get pretty inventive, especially this Cuban named "Toker." (We assumed it was a nickname - but a few years later, working as a bouncer, I got to see his ID.) Toker used to carry several sticks of pepperoni into the lavatory - it was one of those "don't ask" situations, but he went ahead and told us anyway. He claimed he could accommodate an entire onion ...

... though none of us was willing to bet.

There was one time when I lost five dollars to Toker when he bet me that Rugby players couldn't tell the difference between anchovies and semen, and I had the giggles for almost two weeks after we got a delivery order from the Kappa Alpha house asking for our "special salty sauce." There are days when I almost miss the time I spent in that sub-minimum-wage job - not many, but a few - and it certainly was an education.

Now, I'm well aware why Feta cheese smells that way.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 30 Jul 2008, 21:29, Reply)