Don't Tread on Me

Post N008

I’m slowly realizing that Substack articles are the grown-up version of posting a black screen on your Snapchat saying, “Don’t hmu.”

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The other day, my dad and I were driving home from lunch, heading north on Lincoln Blvd. We passed by the restaurant Wurstküche. For those who don’t know, Wurst is a nicer version of a beer garden. Big community-style tables, dim lighting, and good-quality german beers and sausages. You won’t find yourself amongst a rowdy group of post grad finance bros here trying to watch the game or celebrate oktoberfest in July.

Back when it opened in 2011 (I must’ve been 10 years old), it was the talk of the town—lines out the door to try all the different sausages, sit with your friends and family, chat, and have drinks. It was the peak of Venice still being hip before it was taken over by corporate America.

When’s the last time there was an exciting new, original restaurant in Venice? I’ll wait.

Anyway, I have this vivid memory of the only time I’ve ever been—when it had only been open for about a month. As I stood with my dad and our family friends to order, a certain type of sausage caught our eye as we gazed into the cold glass display fridge. Something so striking that the whole group had to gather around to get a look.

"Rattlesnake sausage," we read aloud in disbelief.

Everyone was dumbfounded—so perplexed by the idea of a rattlesnake coming in the form of a sausage, sold and consumed by people like us. I don’t think we initially ordered it, but it slowly became the talk of the table, as if it were going to be a dare for one of us to go back and get it. We laughed at every joke until someone was brave enough to taste that rattler.

Thinking back to that moment made me realize how nights like that don’t exist anymore. When’s the last time, as a society, we got so mesmerized by a concept like rattlesnake sausage? Today, that wouldn’t faze anyone. Now we just sit around the dinner table and try to mansplain crypto to one another. We pretend like we know things about this world, stress over politics, and spend too much time worrying about a shortage of eggs.

Did you see that thing on Twitter? WHO CARES?!!

Have we just become machines that digest as much content as possible so the real world can’t ever live up to that? Why should I care about rattlesnake sausage when I have videos of planes crashing into helicopters and landing upside down? Or is it that we think we’re too cool to be fazed by something because then we’re “out of touch” or “not on social media”? Or is it that we’ve completely lost our innocence?

I guess it takes something like Luka Dončić getting traded to get people talking for once, but sports is such low-hanging fruit.

Have we really become so overstimulated that nothing impresses us anymore? Maybe that’s why everything feels so uninspired. Maybe that’s why I can’t build the next “The Box.” We’re all waiting for something to happen, but nothing will ever be quite as exciting as the never-ending stream of information we consume daily.

Have we just stopped looking for novelty in real life because it’s easier to find it in an endless feed of content?

What if the problem isn’t the world but how we choose to engage with it? I want to believe the rattlesnake sausage moments are still out there. Maybe it’s time to put down the phone, stop pretending to know everything, and let ourselves be surprised again.