Adult Mustard Costume
Nearly two decades later, we have long since figured it all out: the intricacies of navigating a melting pot of the world's sauces (sriracha, ranch, curry, aioli and more), the best corn dogs to carry in our messenger bags, and perhaps most importantly, that one's "sauce" isn't a lifestyle choice nor a hard-and-fast this or that—rather, it lies on a spectrum, perhaps from mere Yellow to the zippiest Spanish Brown. We knew we were mustard and we knew that somewhere else out in the world, there were more mustards like us—some spicy, some a tad sweet—but at their core, in the deepest recesses of their soul, they were merely mustards like us. We felt at once excited and nervous, the former stemming from a desire to be with our people, the latter because, well, how does one ask about sauce preferences outside of an Arby's? Once, when we were but wee little condiment packets (children), we had one of those transformative, coming-of-age realizations, one of those fleeting mere moments in which life changes at the drop of a hat, the sight of an image, the turn of a phrase.
