Drive-In Drive-Through
In my pursuit of the American dream of instant gratification, during which time I hit the drive-through 2.4 times a week with my 2.4 children, I’ve noticed some alarming trends I’d like to discuss with you.
The first trend of note is the line of questioning currently being used as we frequent the fine fast food establishments that dot our great American landscape, the primary offender being: Will you be eating that in your car?
As opposed to what? In someone else’s car? In a hotel room? In the bushes that run parallel to the drive-through lane?
In view of this disturbing questioning movement, I think we can all agree that we’ll need to keep an eye on the situation and, not to be a killjoy or anything, but there’s more.
Even more disturbing is the fact that I’m being forced to take the Nestea plunge, quite frankly, many, many more times than I care to. I’ve tried to alleviate this happenstance by asking a seemingly simple question but, as you are aware, drive-through establishments are not known for their Dolby, high-quality sound systems, so my, “Is the iced tea brewed?” question, I am told, sounds just like, “Is there iced tea, dude?”
This is when I receive a positive response, netting me a drink testing positive for instant tea status, leading to an unhappy interlude when I utter unladylike sounds like, “Urgh, blech, pooey,” as well as using ultra unladylike language.
As I’m driving away, sucking down a huge mouthful of what should be icy, caffeinated, teabag-utilizing liquid goodness, I’m instead chewing chunks of powder. I want you to know that I do understand the dichotomy that is my lack of desire for instant tea at a fast food business, but I don’t care. I likes what I likes.
The third thing I’ve witnessed as I’ve traversed this fine country of ours seeking sustenance is when ordering a simple item, such as a beverage, I am queried as to whether I would like a hamburger and fries with that. This, as though I’m so dense I could have forgotten I was hungry, though I remember being thirsty. When is the last time you said to yourself, “I think I’ll go pick-up a diet cola,” and then you get to your favorite fast food purveyor, you smell, say, pizza and decide you’re hungry? Oh, okay, well, you know what. I may have to give that one over.
The fourth one is not so much about the fast food folks, but about those who utilize these mini-roads to quick nourishment. Has anyone else noticed an increase in the alarming trend that is trucks powering into the drive-through with dogs in the back? What’s the problem, you ask?
As I see it, the trouble with taking your dog through the drive-through is that you’re imposing friendliness upon the driver behind you. This poor sap has embarked upon a solitary venture, enjoying some “me” time and then there’s your adorable critter, complete with wagging tail and pleading eyes.
In my case, this is quite a nuisance because I then commence with my, “Oh my heavens, look at how cute that dog is,” waving, smiling and carrying on sequence, as though I’m a pet sitting candidate.
I can’t seem to help myself. I see that precious, perennially hungry, furry creature and it’s all I can do to grab my hand and say, “Down!” I don’t mind telling you this has gotten me into a bit of a sticky wicket a time or two, mainly because the owner thinks I’m telling her dog to get down, leading to some spirited discussions in the drive-through and at the local sheriff’s office.
Ah, well, I must admit, just writing about these troubling social issues has made me feel better. Instantly.
In my pursuit of the American dream of instant gratification, during which time I hit the drive-through 2.4 times a week with my 2.4 children, I’ve noticed some alarming trends I’d like to discuss with you.
The first trend of note is the line of questioning currently being used as we frequent the fine fast food establishments that dot our great American landscape, the primary offender being: Will you be eating that in your car?
As opposed to what? In someone else’s car? In a hotel room? In the bushes that run parallel to the drive-through lane?
In view of this disturbing questioning movement, I think we can all agree that we’ll need to keep an eye on the situation and, not to be a killjoy or anything, but there’s more.
Even more disturbing is the fact that I’m being forced to take the Nestea plunge, quite frankly, many, many more times than I care to. I’ve tried to alleviate this happenstance by asking a seemingly simple question but, as you are aware, drive-through establishments are not known for their Dolby, high-quality sound systems, so my, “Is the iced tea brewed?” question, I am told, sounds just like, “Is there iced tea, dude?”
This is when I receive a positive response, netting me a drink testing positive for instant tea status, leading to an unhappy interlude when I utter unladylike sounds like, “Urgh, blech, pooey,” as well as using ultra unladylike language.
As I’m driving away, sucking down a huge mouthful of what should be icy, caffeinated, teabag-utilizing liquid goodness, I’m instead chewing chunks of powder. I want you to know that I do understand the dichotomy that is my lack of desire for instant tea at a fast food business, but I don’t care. I likes what I likes.
The third thing I’ve witnessed as I’ve traversed this fine country of ours seeking sustenance is when ordering a simple item, such as a beverage, I am queried as to whether I would like a hamburger and fries with that. This, as though I’m so dense I could have forgotten I was hungry, though I remember being thirsty. When is the last time you said to yourself, “I think I’ll go pick-up a diet cola,” and then you get to your favorite fast food purveyor, you smell, say, pizza and decide you’re hungry? Oh, okay, well, you know what. I may have to give that one over.
The fourth one is not so much about the fast food folks, but about those who utilize these mini-roads to quick nourishment. Has anyone else noticed an increase in the alarming trend that is trucks powering into the drive-through with dogs in the back? What’s the problem, you ask?
As I see it, the trouble with taking your dog through the drive-through is that you’re imposing friendliness upon the driver behind you. This poor sap has embarked upon a solitary venture, enjoying some “me” time and then there’s your adorable critter, complete with wagging tail and pleading eyes.
In my case, this is quite a nuisance because I then commence with my, “Oh my heavens, look at how cute that dog is,” waving, smiling and carrying on sequence, as though I’m a pet sitting candidate.
I can’t seem to help myself. I see that precious, perennially hungry, furry creature and it’s all I can do to grab my hand and say, “Down!” I don’t mind telling you this has gotten me into a bit of a sticky wicket a time or two, mainly because the owner thinks I’m telling her dog to get down, leading to some spirited discussions in the drive-through and at the local sheriff’s office.
Ah, well, I must admit, just writing about these troubling social issues has made me feel better. Instantly.
No comments:
Post a Comment