They Must Hate America

A friend of mine used to tell us how much he hated Mongolian Barbeque, how he couldn't stand the smell. Now, of course we all ragged on him about this because it seemingly made no sense. When we found out the reason, though, we'd never screw with him about it again. For the purposes of this story, and to help my friend remain anonymous, we'll refer to him only as D.

Several years ago, somewhere in Asia, NOT Vietnam...
D is on guard duty for a certain military outfit. He's been stationed here for some time. Another guard calls to him, tells him he's gotta see what's going on here. D walks out, is taken to the crash site of a jet. It's on fire.
A few local folk are holding their children up to the fire, hoping the burns can be blamed on American bombing or an American jet-crash. Problem is, it's not an American jet. D takes one whiff of the air, the burning flesh, promptly vomits, and faints.

Skip to America, mid- to late-nineties...
D is invited to a family outting, meeting at Mongolian Barbeque. Since that day on guard duty, he has become a vegetarian, but is assured that you can make vegetarian dishes. He takes one step into the parking lot, and promptly faints.

This is a true story.