If I could leave a zero star review, I would. My fiancé and I were on a road trip around the northeast, and being not from around those parts we didn't plan accordingly for a food stop. We paused for gas and were optimistic to see what appeared to be a real deli-style restaurant inside the station. The build your own burgers seemed good at first, but only because we were so hungry that grilled roadkill probably would have been tasty. In fact, grilled roadkill probably would be a better choice than eating anything from this heinous gas food station. About a quarter of the way through the rapidly-becoming-questionable meat patty we turned the light on in the car to see the grey-ish hue of the lukewarm monstrosity that they called "beef." This would have been a good time to call it quite and toss it, but we managed to choke down another quarter or so before our hunger faded enough to make us begin to question of life choices that led us to decide to eat food made in a gas station. About an hour later, during our drive, the jokes began about the probability of rats and pig intestine making up the actual meat product...we decided it was highly probably. The levity lasted until about six hours later, when both my fiancé and I were awoken by gurgling stomachs, cramping intestines, and rolling body aches and chills. As we fought the nausea and bile trying to wend its way up from the depths of our bowels we couldn't fight the memory of those grey parties of death. My fiancé won the battle and managed to fall back asleep after a long meeting with the toilet, but I lost the war and spent the better part of the night running from the bed to the bathroom where I continually emptied the contents of my entire gastrointestinal tract from both ends. The rest of the night and the better part of the next day were spent in bed sleeping to avoid the hell that was the current state of my body. Twenty four hours after the poison burger I'm finally somewhat back on my feet and am recommitted to my promise to never trust food made inside a gas station. Next time we find ourselves in such a state of hunger I'll be seeking a squirrel to run over, as I'm quite certain even that would be a cleaner, safer, healthier meal than anything you can get in Rutter's. read more
