That line about saving your good stories for someday really gets me. Like, what is someday even? A Tuesday when you're 70 and your knees hurt and half the people you wanted to tell the story to are gone? I used to do this thing where I'd save a nice bottle of wine for a "special occasion" and then one day I realized I had like nine bottles collecting dust and no occasions. So what was the deal with that cook, did he just hit you with it out of nowhere while you were eating eggs? Or was there something you said first that made him call you out?