I don’t want to give the impression that I am constantly driving through fast-food restaurants. I don’t. I’d rather cook, or put something together from the fuzzy food items lingering in my refrigerator. Mostly owing to my frugality, spending money on food is one of the most unsavory financial choices I feel people make.
Still, occasionally, I can be found driving through a local indifferent/teen-staffed mass-food-production conglomerate. I’ve done it enough times that I know the spiel well.
See, first you drive up to the microphone/speaker. In a couple of seconds, a fuzzy young voice pipes in and buys you more time with which to reconsider ordering that shit you had impulsively decided to get by offering you something like, “Would you like to try our new pint-sized popcorn bourbon-flavored chicken valueless happy meal?” Of course, you never want what they have to offer, so you breeze on with an exclamatory NO and order that putrid slop that passes for food and which are you shameless enough to carry home in a bag that is unmistakably emblazoned with said food outlet’s gaudy and commercially recognizable logo.
NO you admonish. I don’t want that ridiculous special you’re trying to whore out to me.
And so I’ve experienced this enough times that I now reflexively tune out the less-than-tempting offers before commencing with my exciting and mouth-watering order.
Tonight was once such night. I worked late, and thus, convinced myself that I deserved to not cook tonight, so I stopped by that ubiquitous clown-studded culinary hovel that populates nearly every street in this country. I have not eaten anything (other than a vanilla cone here and there) from this fine eatery in years, so I was eager to see what new wonders the menu offered. I wanted a burger, a medium-sized burger and large fries, for this eatery is known for its fries and nothing else. People can talk utter shit about this clown place but when it comes to the fries, they suddenly melt into little schoolgirls in the wake of a Justin Bieber swath. Everyone loves the fries here!
I wanted a burger and fries, and immediately, it stood out. The photo on the menu was blatantly inviting to the Mexican me.
Furthermore, I was delighted to learn that it was on the “Dollar Menu.”
However, upon close examination, it seems the restaurant’s definition of Dollar is anything +/- $1 because the Jalapeno Double could only be gotten for $2. Oh well. I’m surely not one to turn down a $2 burger with jalapenos. My mouth began watering before I reached the speaker, a task mightily delayed by the wench in front of me in the Mazda with 4 kids who all had capricious and snotty sweet tooth’s. So long it took just for her to get the shit straight. Finally, having somewhat ordered her batch of condensed, insulin-jarring sucrose family fix, I was up!
I drove to the speaker and awaited my turn. I wanted that Jalapeno Double!
The speaker came to life.
“Hi, would you like to try our new Jalapeno Double…?”
Yes! They knew.
Finally, the drive-thru sales pitch was greeted with a resounding nod.
My day was made. It happened!