Drive Thru

I don’t do well at the drive-thru. Actually, I suck at the drive-thru. I’m not kidding, just ask my family. They’ll tell you that I wilt like a week old bouquet of flowers when I pull into a drive-thru restaurant. I know it’s not a difficult task – you pull up to the little speaker, tell them what you want, pull forward, give them your money, get your food and leave. Sounds simple doesn’t it? But for some reason, when I pull up to the drive-thru it becomes an adventure in stupidty.

It all starts when I hear the words “Hey, let’s pickup something to eat!” At this point I’ll start to make excuses about how I’m really not that hungry or that we should go and have a sit-down dinner. My family will immediately see through my ruse and lets me know that we’ll get through this ordeal together. But once I pull into the drive-thru lane my palms get sweaty, my heart starts racing and I have difficulty breathing. That’s when all hell breaks loose. As soon I pull up to the little box I can’t understand what they are saying through the speaker. Whoever is in that thing might as well be speaking in Chinese, and maybe they are, because I can’t understand what they are saying. While I’m trying to concentrate on what the guy in the box is saying, everyone in the car starts yelling out what they want. “I want extra pickles, mayo and no ketchup on my burger” “Yeah, me too – no wait a minute I want extra ketchup and no pickles and mayo on mine” “I want a small order of fries with that – Hey will you split some with me? You will? Okay change that I want my fries Super Sized” “I want a small Coke with no ice” “Not me, I want a large Coke with extra ice”. All the time these instructions are being shouted at me, I too am trying to decide what I want. But I can’t think because there is too much information coming in and not enough going out. Then my mind starts racing …Do I have the enough money? Can I get rid of some of this extra change? Am I make the guy behind me mad cause I’m taking to long? Be careful when you pull ahead don’t rear end the guy end front you. Then the guy in the box starts in again “Sir, may I take your order?...Sir…Excuse Sir but may I take your order…Sir!!!”.

It’s at about this time that veins start popping out of my neck and I feel like I’m ready to explode. A stroke is not far behind. It’s the stinking drive-thru for goodness sakes, it shouldn’t be this traumatic! So now I do the only thing I know that will bring this entire situation under control – I yell. And I don’t mean I yell – I mean I YELL. “Everyone Shut Up! Just Shut Up and tell me one at a time what you want! And you in the little box, I better not hear a single word out of you or I’ll crawl in there and kick your ass! I’ll let you know when I’m ready to order…You got that?” Now that I’ve scared the crap out of everyone no one wants to speak, including the guy in the little box. Slowly mumbling begins from the back of the vehicle but nothing coherent. My wife now senses a nervous break down is imminent. She gently pats my leg and says “Honey, maybe I’ll just order for everyone. You just sit there and relax”. With my jaw open wide, I nod in agreement because I can’t speak because the left side of my body is numb. She then proceeds to order everything in about six seconds, pulls out the exact changes, gives me a fake smile and tells me to move forward. What the....how in the world did she just do that?

Now I’m embarrassed. I pull ahead to the window. This is where the guy in the little box lives, actually more like the fourteen-year-old-with-a-work-permit in the box lives. I can’t even look this kid in the eyes because I think I used to be his soccer coach. I glance over to look at him…yep...it’s him, I was his coach. I give him the money all the while looking straight ahead. I don’t want to make eye contact with him but I think I’m going to have to. I pay him and he gives me our bags of food and asks if we want extra ketchup or sauces. I don’t know what to do so I turn to my wife who just nods her head up and down. I think that means yes. I turn back to the kid and imitate my wife's nod. I flop my hand out and he fills it with various condiments all the while he’s probably thinking…”Wow coach is a real idiot”. I give the hand full of condiment packets to my wife who in turn disperses them to the rest of the family. Then we leave. Wow - that sucked! If that scenario has happened once, it’s happened a hundred times. I fall apart every time we go to the drive-thru, I simply can’t do it. I guess that’s why I like to order pizza so much…because they bring it to you.