So I found myself back up in that neighborhood today for an all company meeting where I finally got to meet all of the people that I had been working with for the last year. Nobody really looked like I expected, but then I didn't look like what they expected—so it was even all around.

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At lunch time they announce that they're going to go get some pizzas, so thinking that I'm saving time, I call out "MEAT," indicating my preference for toppings. But it turns out that they're going to a vegetarian pizza place. So I sing out a less enthusiastic "extra tofu," but it turns out that its not just a vegetarian pizza place—its a vegetarian pizza co-op. Since most of us don't understand the ramifications of this, the locals explain it even further. It seems this pizza place makes pieces, but they don't make what you want, they make what they want. So every morning the staff gets together, see's what's left in the vegetable bin, mashes its up and spreads it over the hundred or so pizzas they're going to sell for the day. Turns out its usually pretty good, its just not the way Dominos does it.

Our host apologizes and offers to send out special for some dead animals, ground up and baked on top of some curdled cows milk and yeast cultures in wheat (normal pizza), but I figure if I could survive travelling around the world and living on various cuisines from the Netherlands to Bangkok, then I can survive one afternoon of communist pizza.

After an extended period of time, the lunch gathering team returns with five cardboard boxes, piled high with steaming meat from Round Table. No, they didn't cave in to my demands. It turns out that commies don't make pizza on Mondays.