I’m a complete creature of habit when it comes to my breakfast. Once I settle into a routine, I stick with it, come hell or high water. This current break in my routine is especially painful, because I had grown to really love my breakfast.

The Skytrain station that I catch for my morning commute has the typical complement of vendor stands hawking all sorts of pastries and juices. What amazed me when I spotted it so many weeks ago was the sheer novelty of the new booth by Mediterranean restaurant Pita Pan selling mini pita sandwiches. Medditerranean? As a part of a Bangkokian’s morning diet? Sure, why not give it a try? And from the first day, I knew I had my perfect breakfast: a mixed sandwich box with a 3 mini sandwiches: crabstick, tuna, and ham salad. Wash it down with a coffee and some of my wife’s apple slices, and I had me the breakfast of champions. My only concern: the booth had disconcertingly low patronage. Would this affect my ability to eat delicious and healthy pita sandwiches into the future? Always a thought in my mind, it was an issue I chose not to dwell on. Until now.

I went to the office last Friday, my first day in the office after almost of week of travel and illness. As I traversed through the rail station, I rummaged through my pockets for the Baht 35 I would need for my daily fuel, only to discover to my eternal horror that Pita Pan wasn’t there. It wasn’t merely that the sales lady (the one who would spot me from a hundred meters away and have my breakfast packed and ready to go before I arrived at her counter) was out sick. The entire bloody booth was gone. My stomach sank, my bile rose, and I fought off the urge to curl up in a fetal position and cry.

“It’s the holiday season,” I told myself, “she’s probably just taking a long weekend, and she’ll be back on Monday. Maybe they’re upgrading the booth to attract more customers, and that’s why it’s not here. Yes, Yes! That’s got to be it!”

An hour and a half ago: no Pita Pan, nary a sign. A light in my universe has just gone out. Going to work has become a bit less pleasant. Pity the pita-less man…