When was the last time you looked deep into your soul, beneath the layers of half-truths and self-delusion, and faced the darkness that lies inside us all?
Let me rephrase that: Have you ever been to Chito's Pizza?
I discovered the hallowed grounds of Chito's this past Friday night as I walked home across Bloor Street. I was hungry and tired, but all of the fast food options along the way were mediocre at best. Pizza Pizza. Subway. 241. I needed something more. Something pure.
Just as I was ready to give up and go home, I saw Chito's. I had walked past this place over a hundred times before, but had never been inside. This time was different, and now nothing will ever be the same.
When was the last time you hurt someone you loved? It's okay. We all do things we know we shouldn't. Like when the friendly server behind the counter asked me if I wanted chicken shwarma dumped on top of my slice of pizza, and I couldn't help myself.
I said yes.
Hot sauce?
... Yes.
Garlic sauce?
Y E S.
Do you have two dollars and fifty cents?
...
$2.50. For a slice of pizza covered in chicken shwarma and drowning in garlic and hot sauce. How?! How did the stars align just so?? Chito must be a lunatic or a prophet, or both. There's a part of me that wants to meet him, but there's also a part of me that wants to drive my car full speed down the highway without ever taking my foot off the gas, just to see what happens.
Look at the pictures. WHAT IS THAT? Is that pizza?
No, it's not pizza. It's freedom.
Not the bullshit, commercialized faux-freedom you see in TV and movies. This isn't a two week Caribbean cruise or mindfulness meditation retreat. This isn't your pampered climb of Everest - do you see any fucking sherpas here? No, this is true freedom, where the weight of every decision you make has the potential to crush you.
Eating your first slice at Chitos is like having your partner suddenly slide a finger you-know-where mid-coitus, and then the dog licks your toes as you climax. You didn't necessarily want it to happen, and you certainly didn't expect it to feel so good, but now that you've had it you need it again. Every damn time, or it's just not the same.
Yes, the shwarma and sauce are spilling off the pizza before you even try and pick it up. And yes, when you do try and eat it, the toppings will cascade over your fingers and onto your lap. Your hands and face will be covered in more sauce than were on the pizza to begin with. HOW??
Did you honestly think this cost only $2.50? No, you cannot experience Chito's without paying a higher price. I've been back at least once a day since Friday, and I still need more. Something is wrong with me - something that can't be fixed. All I can do is go back again, and again, and again...
Because Chito's Pizza is one of the greatest things I have ever taste-- no, EXPERIENCED. The things I used to enjoy before Chito's? I don't remember what they were. My friends, family... they're all gone now. I'm finally free, but I no longer know who I am.
Chito's Pizza isn't a metaphor for life, life is a metaphor for Chito's Pizza.
Maybe this isn't for you. At least, not yet. But there will come a time when you feel the darkness stirring, deep inside you. A longing like you've never felt before. To tell your boss and colleagues to fuck themselves. To tell the love of your life that you need to be alone for a while, and you might never come back. To tell your kids that they aren't really your kids.
Yes, there will inevitably be a time that you will be called to Chito's Pizza. Whether you answer that call - whether you choose to embrace the agony of existence and let the salty, greasy taste of freedom obliterate you and everything you've ever believed in - that is entirely up to you. read more