This is you.
Your name is Banky Hobex, and you're just about the most average guy ever. In high school there were big jocks with white baseball caps, small vocabularies and small beady eyes that would speak in deep, short spurts and say things like "The Sox won last night" and "Man, I was trashed, but I still nailed her." There were the outsiders that were better suited to speak to their calculators than their fellow peers, and the deliberate outsiders who wore black lipstick and carried Mr. T lunchboxes so everyone else would notice how desperately they didn't fit in. There were cool people and cheerleaders, pseudo-cool kids and teachers' pets.
Then there was you, that guy that everyone knew, but nobody knew real well.
An average high school boy turned into an average college guy, and then that average college guy graduated with something not too spectacular and went on to an average job in an average building in an average city - nothing like Bumblefrock, Egypt, but no New York City either. You do paperwork for something not very important, and usually have a sandwich for lunch and discuss the weather with your bland co-workers. You wear a tie, but nothing too fancy. You make a modest living, and are about 30… an average age, if you add the ages of two 30-year-olds together and divide by two.
Today, however, you decide maybe its time to break out of that mold. Maybe, just maybe, today is your day to rip off that bland tie, find something hot pink and polka-dotted, and become more than average. Maybe you'll dance naked on rooftops, or bite the heads off bats. Perhaps you could spend the day barking at people as they pass on the sidewalk, and then start campaigning to be the president of Afghanistan.
But first, Banky Hobex, you must eat lunch. It's an important decision, I will assure you. Where will you go to eat?