Originally I was on my way to my competitive Cornhole league, and while caught off guard, pleasantly surprised to see a food truck set up post-lunch hours (I work in Alexandria were @foodtruckfiesta informed me they are banned. I am coping with this on my own terms). Thank goodness I was early to Cornhole so I could stop and inspect this potential snack provider. I decided mozzarella sticks were an appropriate pre-game snack that would give me the proper energy needed to win. D.C. Slices was quick and efficient, and the mozzarella sticks were satisfactory and nutritional. However I had this gnawing feeling at my insides that I hadn’t made the right life choice, similar to how Mrs. McCallister felt on her first-class flight to Paris as she began to process she’d left Kevin home alone. After all it’s called D.C. Slices, and one would assume that pizza is their pride and joy.
Tragedy followed. My emotional distress mounted as I came to terms that I’d made the wrong choice. My concentration was broken the whole Cornhole game. The slices kept haunting me with each toss of the beanbag. Without a doubt this accounted for my subpar tosses, as usually I am the backbone of the team and can be heavily relied upon to score the most points. You can imagine my euphoria when I emerged from a harrowing and extremely close Cornhole game to find the D.C. Slices truck still parked outside. With no reservations on being gluttonous, my teammate and I ordered ourselves two cheese slices. I immediately felt at peace and a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders. I knew I’d made the right choice. Not to mention the pizza was quite satisfying with just the right amount of grease to cheese to sauce proportions.
Here’s where the plot twist occurs. Upon presenting our two slices, the slices provider declared, “That slice is smaller than the other, so we’ll knock a dollar off that one.” My jaw dropped almost as much as the judges did during McKayla Maroney’s fantastically perfect vault. The slices looked pretty much the same size to my untrained eye, and I wouldn’t have even thought to complain about this minute detail. The slices man had nothing to gain from this immensely selfless act besides satisfied customers (and an adoring blog post, but he couldn’t have known this at the time), so I applaud his beneficent deed. A regular Mother Teresa. What a guy.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any groovier, I was proved wrong. My other teammate was waiting for a pepperoni slice and the pizza guys were making a whole fresh pie. I admire and respect D.C. Slices for not giving us junk that’s been sitting around under heat lamps. As we were milling about reveling in our $1 of savings, the pizza guys shoved some tots out the window and explained “You guys have been waiting awhile, here are some tots for you.” Stunned. Speechless. Awestruck. Ecstatic. These words barely capture the tidal wave of emotions coursing through my cheese filled belly at the prospect of free tots. And let it be known, the wait wasn’t even that long! I’ve waited plenty longer at other food trucks (i.e. Calexico Cart), with not so much as a “thanks for the wait.” Again, I wouldn’t have thought twice about this wait, and the kind sir had no ulterior motives except the goodness of his heart to provide us with such a prize. Here’s to you D.C. slices, for putting me in a far better mood after visiting your truck than I was in before I met you. You are the Miss Congeniality of food trucks.
http://dcslices.com/menu/
Update: Obviously I returned to D.C. Slices after this first satisfying experience. I am pleased to report the service remained excellent, with a side of friendliness and tastiness. And I got these delicious pizza tots.
