I am a drive thru kind of guy. I am single, so drive thrus provide solace from the stigma of dining alone. Yes, even eating in a McDonalds alone can bring about pity from the coupled. A sad existence I know, but one I can live with. That is until my sad existence is made miserable by those I encounter in my drive thru life. You people know who you are, then again maybe you don't. So let me shine a little light on to you, so you will hurry up and get the hell out of my way.

First up, are the people who upon reaching the pay window, begin a frantic search of their vehicle. The visor, the glove compartment, the seats. After an exhausted search, you then present your credit card for payment. Now there is nothing inherently wrong with paying for your extra value meal with a credit card or debit card. Unless your card is declined. Then I must suffer through you doing another frantic search of your vehicle, only to end with you gesturing that you can't pay for the meal. At which point you look around as if you are expecting the extra value meal fairy to appear and pay for your meal. When your credit or debit card can't handle a 4.99 extra value meal, your life is now sadder than mine, and in the process you have made my life, miserable. So the next time you can't pay for that drive thru meal, just put the pointer on 'D', take your foot off the brake and drive to nearest off ramp. Where you can break out your 'Will work for food' cardboard sign.

Tell me. What is up with all you people driving around in those extra long trucks with four foot tires? Placing your over sized rumbling tail pipe at eye level. So while I am trying to place my order, not only am I yelling at the top of my lungs I am also choking to death on your exhaust fumes. While the voice on the other end is repeatedly saying, “Can you repeat that.” Yes I can. “What is up with all these people driving around in those extra long trucks with four foot tires?” The voice replies, “They have small dicks.” Well, that explains that!

About the only thing more annoying than the small wonders. Are those of you, who I guess, are afraid of being car jacked. You are the people who never pull up close to the vehicle in front of you. Instead you leave any where from a ½ of a car length to ¾ of a car length between you and the next vehicle. You damn gappers, throwing off the calculated car spacing, for putting me where I need to be when I am next in line to place my order. Which leads to several, “Hi, may I take your order.”, before I attempt to yell an order in the direction of the speaker. Which prompts a couple of “I can't hear you, will you repeat that.” That then turns me into the loud orderer guy.

Loud orderer guy, four car lengths back, and you can hear them delivering their order. As if they are doing a piss poor performance for community theater. This I do not need. I am a loner. I have zero interest in your gastronomical taste. Really! Honestly!

Now I am sure most of us are familiar with the running joke in Lethal Weapon 2. That they fuck you when you go through the drive thru. This is an inevitable truth when you live a drive thru life. However life has a way of balancing itself out. So if you get fucked every now and then when using the drive thru, do not sweat it, it will balance itself out. Sooner or later you will get an extra burger or fry or something. Free!

So, soccer mom, just pay for your food and move along. Do not waste my time, by making me sit through you going through every bag of food you received. Just so whatever is pressing its face against the back window, will not pitch a fit when you get home. You freaking purveyor of the happy nuclear family.

By B. Bell

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