Our Story ... Chapter 5
After parking under the fluorescent arches of the giant letter “M,” we entered the small, brightly lit glass box that was McDonald’s. I could tell that Martin was unfamiliar with fast food protocol as he proceeded to the tables without first placing an order at the counter.
“We have to order here first,” I said.
“Oh… right.”
Being pressed by a girl wearing a paper hat to make his dinner selections on the spot, he looked confused and a little distressed. Sensing that he needed rescue, I stepped in: “Would you like me to order for us?”
“Sure,” he said, a little embarrassed but obviously relieved.
Dangling above our heads was an over-sized cardboard mobile of The Big Mac; full glossy, double-sided, twirling from the ribs of the polystyrene dropped-ceiling tiles. “How about that?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said, looking up at the mobile. “I’ll have that!”
“Okay. You secure a table, and I’ll get the food,” I replied.
Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the scene — every detail, every utterance, every nuance. Only when you step outside your life and attempt to view it through the lens of someone who is totally unfamiliar with it do you realize the genius and absurdity of your everyday.
“We’ll take two Big Macs, two orders of fries, and two Cokes, please.”
“For here or to go?”
“For here, please,” I said. We’re on a date, I thought.
I accepted a paper slip from the girl in the paper hat, and on a paper-lined plastic tray, gathered several paper napkins and two plastic straws. Oh, and a squeeze of ketchup in a plastic packet and a pinch of salt in paper. Upon hearing (over the excessively loud intercom) the number that matched the one on the slip, I thanked the paper hat for the paper-enrobed burgers, paper cones filled with fries, and plastic-coated paper cups of Coca-Cola. I delivered all this to the table-for-two and seated myself across from Martin on a yellow molded-plastic bench, along with two other “for here’s.”
After divvying up our individual items, Martin grew increasingly quiet and visibly disappointed.
“Is everything okay? I asked.
“He answered with the question, “Is this it?”
“Yes, it’s the Big Mac. Is it not what you wanted?”
“I thought it was going to be like that!” he said, pointing to the large, spinning poster burger.
“It is,” I replied. “Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, chees, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun,” I said, cleverly parroting the commercial jingle.
Unaware of the witty reference and not amused, he replied, “All my life, I have heard about these BIG American hamburgers.”
“You thought it was going to be that size?” I asked. “No, that’s just an advertisement. It’s overblown, you know, for effect.”
“Oh, he sighed….”Is there any cutlery?”
“Um…I’ll go ask,” I said.
I returned with a plastic fork, knife, and spoon, individually wrapped in plastic.
Welcome to America.