By Jim Hagarty
I am in line at the drivethrough at McDonald’s, $1.05 burning a hole in my pocket, my lips anxious to wrap themselves around a good, hot coffee.
There is one car ahead of me at the order speaker. He sits there a long time. He is either reading the poor server his Last Rites, or reciting a chapter by heart from Gone With the Wind. He finally moves on.
I pull up to the order kiosk. I see the total for the long-winded customer who preceded me:
$39.93.
How in Ronald McDonald’s name can someone find $39.93 worth of food to buy at McDonald’s in one drive through? He seemed to be the only one in the car. Either he had given up on Weight Watchers or he was the designated hunter-gatherer bringing back supper for his village.
Lips got busy but it wasn’t coffee they were tasting. They were involved in conveying the significant disappointment on the part of their owner at having to wait an eternity for eight ounces of hot brown water.
Of course, the expletives expedited matters more than it seemed possible they might, and the food wagon finally moved on.
Back to the village he went, I assume.
The elders would be pleased at the day’s catch, no doubt.