Western New Yorkers will recall that not only is Bon Jovi the frontman of a shitty 80’s hair metal band, but he also paired with a group of investors from Toronto in an attempt to buy the Buffalo Bills when the team’s original owner, Ralph Wilson passed away in 2013. Bon Jovi’s bid was undercut by a Donald Trump smear campaign (Trump was trying to buy the team too), and his unconvincing declarations that he and his group wouldn’t move the team to Toronto. Ultimately, the eventual winners of bidding process would be the present owners, Terry and Kim Pegula. 

Since his losing effort to obtain the Bills, the least intimidating blue hair mallo cup ever to slip on a motorcycle leather, has thankfully sworn off ever showing his face in Buffalo again.

Neptune, who lives in Buffalo’s Allentown neighborhood said the rest stop was exactly what you thought it would be. “Most of the men had mullets and the ones that didn’t had ponytails. The ones that didn’t have mullets or ponytails wore ridiculous cowboy hats. The women had huge tacky earrings and poured themselves into yoga pants. Despite the pliability of the yoga pants, they were were unable to corral the Jersey girls copious ass cracks. The children were all ugly—especially the babies.”

He noted that none of the men at the urinals tried to obviate their flatulence in the least—they just blasted away leaving a gray mist hovering at the ceiling. None of these Jersey schmoes washed their hands either. 

“You probably didn’t need to ask, but yes there was a Sbarro at the stop. And like every Sbarro at every shitty rest stop there was one guy in line moments away from a stromboli that would be both hot and cold at the same time. How do they stay in business?” asked a perplexed Neptune.

Neptune also mentioned that when the mullet headed, yoga pants wearing patrons of the Bon Jovi rest stop weren’t buying Sbarro, they were talking and they were talking loudly. Every phone was on speaker and every discussion was about whether Marion was going to bring her macaroni salad to Joey’s for the fourth. The conversations were at a decibel level akin to a circle of preteen girls yapping a mile a minute at an roller rink about Taylor Swift. 

Overall Neptune has had worse life experiences, but said if he was confronted with a similar situation in the future, he would opt to just piss his pants.  

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