It is the mistakes we have made in the past, which make us who we are. They make us strong, wise, and careful. Yet, if I was ever given the opportunity to do something differently in my life, like to change a past mistake, I would redo that fateful day that magnificently ruined all other cuisine for my gustatory cells. It was a day like any other, my rowdy family packed inside our dilapidated mini van, anxiously waiting to make the hour journey into the city of Philadelphia. We had done so countless times before, because of the city's exceptional food, its sporting events, and the nostalgia my parents felt when returning to their childhood home. Over the course of my seventeen years, we had visited more cheese steak joints then I could count on all my fingers and toes, but on this memorable day, we would try out a new, alluring, hole in the wall. I remember the moment when we pulled up next to John's Roast Pork on Snyder Avenue, my dad handed me a twenty-dollar bill and told me to run in and grab two cheese steaks for the ride. When I stepped out of the car, the first element that caught my eye was John's logo which was positioned on the front of the brick walled building. The logo was a picture of a pig which was wearing a bib and eating a roast pork sandwich. I knew that if this eager piggy was so excited to eat his animal brethren, I would be very excited to do the same. I opened the door and was instantly thrust into a line of boisterous workmen waiting to order a sandwich on their lunch break. I pushed my way to the front of the line, and ordered two cheese steaks with fried onions. I watched the man taking my order scream to the men behind him as they doused the grill in all kinds of butter and grease to cook up my desirable meal. I paid my bill, and took my sandwiches off the counter, then quickly ran out to the car to share these exquisite logs with the rest of my family. I jumped in the car, slammed the door, and quickly unwrapped the large cheese steak, cutting each of them in three. We all grabbed a piece at once and took a ginormous bite! Ironically, on the radio at that very moment, Mick Jagger was going on and on about how he “Can't get no satisfaction.” I imagine the only reason he never got any satisfaction was because he had never bitten into a John's cheese steak. I had never been more satisfied in my entire life. As I chomped away on my lunch, I felt feelings of pure ecstasy cover my tongue. I could feel the cheese steak going to my hips, but I didn't care! This particular cheese steak was so life-altering I re-named it euphoria, it was virtually impossible to imagine anything that would make me happier. As I finished that last bite of my sandwich I shed a tear, not because my delicious cheese steak was gone, but because I knew that I could never have another ‘first' cheese steak at John's. If I could only have one chance to redo something in my life, it would be avoiding ever buying a John's cheese steak. Because of its heavenly taste, texture and smell, I have never been able to enjoy another cheese steak in my life. I will never enjoy another love affair with any other bi-product of sliced meat and cheese on a roll. Every other cheese steak in the world could never and will never measure up to John's.