It is 2 am and the bars are shutting down. You're not thirsty... but you ARE hungry. There's a voice... deep in the recesses of your head and it utters "Cheeeeese steak." Must've been the wind. "CHEEEEEEEEEESE STEAK..." this time, a little louder. And you're thinking, what the hell am I gonna eat at 2 am. "Listen you douche bag, this is the voice in the recesses of your head... and I want you... you drunken idiot... to go somewhere, preferrably Jim's Steaks... and get me a CHEESESTEAK." So you coerce a friend, a sober friend, to drive you somewhere. Somewhere close (springfield) where you can get a quality cheesesteak without being forced to speak English. Cause lord knows, you're drunk... you're tired... you're hungry... and you want to go a place where a) Everybody knows your name b) and they're always glad you came c) you can just point to a picture of a cheese steak and say "Gnannnanaaaaaaahhhhh..." and they'll know what you want. A few pics and a video of "where cheesesteaks come from" after the JUMP.