Have you ever craved something so badly, only to have that craving forever tainted by a bizarre, unforgettable event? That’s my life story with pizza, thanks to the Great Phone Number Mix-Up of 2008. Buckle up, friends, it’s a wild ride.
Living as a Walking Pizza Advertisement
Picture this: It’s 2008. I’m fresh out of college, living in a tiny, overpriced apartment with nothing but ramen noodles and dreams. Naturally, pizza delivery became my love language. Little did I know, I was about to become more than just a regular customer—I was about to become a legend.
It started innocently enough. A wrong number here, a misdialed digit there. Except, it wasn’t just one wrong number. It was a never-ending parade of them. And they all wanted the same thing: pizza.
At first, it was amusing. I’d politely explain, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number. This isn’t a pizzeria.” Then, it got weird. People would argue with me, convinced I was hiding the pizza from them. “Come on, man, just tell me what the specials are!”
My roommate and I started keeping a tally on the fridge. Pepperoni was the clear crowd favorite, followed closely by a bizarre combination of pineapple and anchovies (don’t judge!).
The Night of the Pizza Apocalypse: A Delivery Too Many
The peak of this phone-based chaos culminated in an unforgettable evening. I was home alone, enjoying a rare night of peace and quiet (and no pizza-related phone calls, surprisingly). Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Then again. And again. I opened the door to find a bewildered delivery driver holding not one, not two, but five piping hot pizzas.
He looked at me, then at the address scribbled on his receipt, then back at me. “Uh, is this…the Pizza Palace?” he stammered.
I could only shake my head. My apartment, it seemed, had become the accidental black market hub for unsanctioned pizza deliveries.