Beiler’s Donuts Michael Klein
Math skills crumble. Resistance is futile. Calorie counting, after an excellent meal at the Terminal, flies far out the window. Sauntering post-lunch, how many times does one seem to end up “entirely by chance” in the Northwest Corner of the Terminal. Home to Beiler’s Donuts and Salads (Ha! I see a line of 20 people for donuts, but if you want a salad, there’s no waiting!)
The fulfilling meal of tofu, cabbage, and rice leaves little temptation for desert. But occasionally, deeply embedded instinctual desires for sweets overcomes even the most hardened fitness buff. We are led . . . no, pulled, toward the donuts . . . but if even the tiniest bit of rational sense can struggle to the surface, we approach with only a single dollar in our hands.
That’s it. 95¢ for a ticket to heaven. Churches would be packed if they gave out tickets like this. The apple or blueberry fritters seem to be the most popular; between the two, one of them will be just-out-of-the-fryer. I’ll carefully purchase just one. There’s always tomorrow.