Musings From a Quaker Meeting in Philadelphia

You're on South Street in Philadelphia. It's a Sunday. You've just stumbled into a Quaker service. Yes, like the guy on the oatmeal.

The room is barren, wooden, and silent. 

You look around, and everyone's heads are bowed. Are they all on their phones??? That seems rude. Oh, wait, they're silently reflecting.

Out of the silence and isolation of the individual reflective prayer comes a unified shriek: "GO BIRDS!"

Back to silent prayer.

"I WANT A HOAGIE!"

"CAN I HAVE A WOODER (water) WITH THAT JAWN?"

A voice erupts from the back of the room.

"YOU'RE THE WORST FECKING DRIVER I KNOW."

A beam of sunlight floods in from a window. Ah, beautiful. The presence of God.

Then, out of the silence:

"I WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL WITH BRADLEY COOPER!"

"I DID TOO!"

"NO WAY? I'M CLASS OF '92."

You look around sheepishly. Is no one going to stop this? Isn't this, like, a religious meeting?

Suddenly, you feel something charge through your body. Your shoulders begin to pulse. Your knee moves uncontrollably. You call out timidly, but your voice rises an octave with every word you utter:

"AND I'LL HAVE A CHEESESTEAK WITH THAT!"