The Tale of Rock Steady 12: Burger Vans and Bigger Fans

The Untold Tales of Rock Steady: Bigger Fans Means More Broken Lifts.

Pies and Bovril are the staple diet of any keen football supporter, and at all costs should at lest be ate once a weekend, no matter what ground you go to or what the score line is. The lucky thing is that inside the stadium there are no shortage of over priced middens that take extortionate amounts of momeny from your hand in exchange for horrible food and over heated drinks. When working for Rock Steady, your options are fairly limited to albeit a few choices, some of which I can stomach, others, not so.

The advantage I have, obviously, is that whilst I am working I am above the law, so to speak - I can leave the stadium. Not beacause I get special treatment, but when you are opening and closing doors on Rangers fans faces you do get a chance to slip out of the door, smirking as you walk past all the grimy Glaswegian faces while they wait to get in. The problem is that around Ibrox there is almost no amnemities, like a sandwich shop or even a McDonalds.

While I was working for Rock Steady every penny counted, as I was really skint most of the time I lived in that flat and worked there. I managed to just stay above the line, despite heavy handed efforts by the Banks to really screw me up, but in fairness, I brought a few bits on it my self.

Anyway, this particular afternoon I felt flushing have a few quid in my pocket, buring a large hole, just shouting "I Need to be Spent!", and who am I to aruge with entropy?

So outside I head, to the Rock Steady van that gave us fair discounts on the shitty burger and, well, I can't complain too much about the coke - I suppose it could have been colder. The burger (and I am a sort of expert on these things) was awful - no taste, only the feeling of slimy fried onions and cheese that is so rubber it should be attached to the bottom of my car. The bun was stale, and probably had just been defrosted that morning.

So I am standing there, eating the burger, when an asian fellow comes up to the van. He works for Rock Steady, and speaks very little english, like a few of the crowd of misfits. I worked in the hospitality area, so I don't wear a yellow jacket, so I am standing there, munching on the worst food I have eaten in a long time, as he asks the most incredible question:

"Do you serve Halal burgers?"

The asian man who is dishing the burgers out looks back. I stop putting the garbage to my mouth - this will make a good blog later on. The owner just looks at him, and says, straight faced, "This ain't fucking Parkhead mate!".

I don't know what that means instantly, but I smile. The steward turns to me, sees me smiling, and shouts at me "You fucking racist, just cause I can't eat the shit you are eating!" and I start to go red, as suddenly I am in one of those situations that I have no social training for dealing with. I shurg apologetically, and start to make back for the safety of the stadium, as he shouts after me "You hospitality pricks are all the fucking same inint*". As I jump into the stand, my colleague asks me "Whit wis that aw aboot?"
"He asked for Halal burger." I say, panting, half laughing.
"Aye they have one when we work out at Parkhead."
"Seriously?" I ask.
"Yeah, best burgers too."

This is the first of five new Rock Steady posts, some that have lain in the drafts for a while as sketches, and have been rewritten partly, or are stories that I have not told previously.

*I though for a while I would leave "init" out as it might be racist, but I have decided it might be more racist to edit what was say to not be racist than just leaving it in.