Completely Out of Practice
I share the following story only because I have learned to chuckle at myself and have come to discover that the world is a better, happier, more cheerful place when my foolishness is put on display for others to laugh at.
So, uh, drive-thru's.
McDonald's drive-thru's, more specifically. (Am I even spelling that word right? Drive through? Drive-through? Drive thru? Drive Threw?)
Folks, do you know it has been 3 years since I have had the pleasure of going thru a drive-thru? Three years of complete seclusion from the first, and most important American Right - The Right To Have My Lunch Thrown At Me Through My Car Window By A Pimply Teenager. Yes, that right.
So, I was out running errands with the girls and thought - hey! I have a right to go through that drive-thru at the Golden Arches! I mean, there was this voice telling me to go there...it sounded a lot like Brooklyn's voice actually, but I digress.
I was quite proud of myself, pulling up to that bright red speaker-thingy. I understood Ronald's happy greeting and proceeded to tell him my desire for potatoes, sliced thin and soaked in oil to soggy perfection, McChicken McPart McNuggets, a slab of "choice" beef drenched in special sauce and placed between two unnaturally white slices of bread....you get the idea. It's McDonalds.
Did I mention that it has been three years since I've gone through a drive-thru...and that this Ronald McDonald is of the Spanish-speaking variety? Next thing I know he's blabbering on at me in rapid-fire Spanish and I'm just sitting there in my car blinking.
He pauses, as though expecting an answer.
I say, "huh?"
More rapid-fire Spanish. Something about Coca-Cola.
I say, "Uh, SI!" (Why is it that "si" is the only word I can remember in Spanish when under duress? Something tells me it is not the word to use in these kinds of situations.)
More "YmiyotuchuncheriapesoscientosymasunoCocaCola?"
A resounding "Si!" from my still-hanging-open mouth.
Nothing.
Nothing. Not a word. Maybe a little bit of static.
I pulled forward, inch by tentative inch, waiting for Ronald to yell at me for moving on before my time. Then I come to Window 1.
The tinted glass window swings open and, Ronald - who looks surprisingly different than his picture, by the way - is telling me I owe him some quantity of pesos. I numbly hand him the first bill that comes out of my wallet - 100 pesos - and get an annoyed look. It is all very disconcerting, especially since the guy is still talking into his headset and punching buttons on some Magic Machine.
Then I get The Finger. (Not that finger! Good grief people, this is McDonald's, not L.A.) I get the index finger - you know, the one that indicates the number "1"...as in "give me one more peso?"
Appears that my guess was close enough that he thought I actually heard what he said and just didn't want to pay it all up. I felt properly chastised. Honest, Ronald, I wasn't trying to cheat you out of one peso!
I sheepishly hand over the equivalent to about ten U.S. cents.
And with that, I am dismissed. So, again, I tentatively inch my way forward. The Ronald at Window 2 is much kinder. He hands me my food and asks if I need anything else.
And what do I say? "NO!" There! I said something other than "si."
Except that I did really need a few more things. Sauce. Extra ketchup. Napkins. Oh, well.
I got an encouraging, though slightly patronizing smile, and was bid farewell.
We got everything I had tried to order. Except that Brooklyn got Coke instead of Orange Fanta and I got a drink the size of Texas and more French fries than the whole of Texas could consume in a year.
It was great!
So, uh, drive-thru's.
McDonald's drive-thru's, more specifically. (Am I even spelling that word right? Drive through? Drive-through? Drive thru? Drive Threw?)
Folks, do you know it has been 3 years since I have had the pleasure of going thru a drive-thru? Three years of complete seclusion from the first, and most important American Right - The Right To Have My Lunch Thrown At Me Through My Car Window By A Pimply Teenager. Yes, that right.
So, I was out running errands with the girls and thought - hey! I have a right to go through that drive-thru at the Golden Arches! I mean, there was this voice telling me to go there...it sounded a lot like Brooklyn's voice actually, but I digress.
I was quite proud of myself, pulling up to that bright red speaker-thingy. I understood Ronald's happy greeting and proceeded to tell him my desire for potatoes, sliced thin and soaked in oil to soggy perfection, McChicken McPart McNuggets, a slab of "choice" beef drenched in special sauce and placed between two unnaturally white slices of bread....you get the idea. It's McDonalds.
Did I mention that it has been three years since I've gone through a drive-thru...and that this Ronald McDonald is of the Spanish-speaking variety? Next thing I know he's blabbering on at me in rapid-fire Spanish and I'm just sitting there in my car blinking.
He pauses, as though expecting an answer.
I say, "huh?"
More rapid-fire Spanish. Something about Coca-Cola.
I say, "Uh, SI!" (Why is it that "si" is the only word I can remember in Spanish when under duress? Something tells me it is not the word to use in these kinds of situations.)
More "YmiyotuchuncheriapesoscientosymasunoCocaCola?"
A resounding "Si!" from my still-hanging-open mouth.
Nothing.
Nothing. Not a word. Maybe a little bit of static.
I pulled forward, inch by tentative inch, waiting for Ronald to yell at me for moving on before my time. Then I come to Window 1.
The tinted glass window swings open and, Ronald - who looks surprisingly different than his picture, by the way - is telling me I owe him some quantity of pesos. I numbly hand him the first bill that comes out of my wallet - 100 pesos - and get an annoyed look. It is all very disconcerting, especially since the guy is still talking into his headset and punching buttons on some Magic Machine.
Then I get The Finger. (Not that finger! Good grief people, this is McDonald's, not L.A.) I get the index finger - you know, the one that indicates the number "1"...as in "give me one more peso?"
Appears that my guess was close enough that he thought I actually heard what he said and just didn't want to pay it all up. I felt properly chastised. Honest, Ronald, I wasn't trying to cheat you out of one peso!
I sheepishly hand over the equivalent to about ten U.S. cents.
And with that, I am dismissed. So, again, I tentatively inch my way forward. The Ronald at Window 2 is much kinder. He hands me my food and asks if I need anything else.
And what do I say? "NO!" There! I said something other than "si."
Except that I did really need a few more things. Sauce. Extra ketchup. Napkins. Oh, well.
I got an encouraging, though slightly patronizing smile, and was bid farewell.
We got everything I had tried to order. Except that Brooklyn got Coke instead of Orange Fanta and I got a drink the size of Texas and more French fries than the whole of Texas could consume in a year.
It was great!
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