Breakfast is only served until 10:30. And that means you have to be at the talky panel before 10:30. If you are in the line at 10:30 and don�t make it to the talky panel, well then, you�re screwed. You can get into the line at 10:17 and be behind a super slow car. They don�t care. It could be their fault that the line doesn�t move. They could just not be cooking the breakfast food after 10 am and they just keep the people in line until 10:30 and then tell you it is too late. It�s a conspiracy. They are communists. It�s depressing when all you really wanted were crispy, little round pieces of deep fried, sodium showered, shredded potatoes. There is no substitute.
So, it�s 10:24. Joe and I think we have a good chance of getting to the talky panel before it�s actually 10:30. So we drive into the little preset lane for those seeking over-processed and structurally unhealthy fast breakfast foods.
The car in front of us is a medium sized SUV. The guy driving it is rock-star. He has shoulder-length wavy hair and hasn�t shaved. His sunglasses are SU-pah-reflective. And you just know that his big-ass, gas-guzzling, off-roading, environment-killing tires have never seen the likes of an unpaved road. He�s a poser. I get to breathe his exhaust because he doesn�t actually use his SUV to explore nature. He uses it to try to get McDonald�s breakfast before 10:30 am.
Joe and I watch in tense anticipation. We really want RockStar to hurry. Hurry, RockStar. Hurry. See RockStar. See RockStar sit. And talk. It�s now 10:29. See RockStar not move. At all. RockStar makes a gesture with his left arm out the window. His hair shakes back and forth as RockStar makes grunting noises. RockStar puts his SUV in reverse. The little white lights blink on and off and back on again. He tries to back up. Then moves forward. He leans way out and looks at the 5 inch high curb which dictates All People In Line For MacD�s Must Be Within Parameters. He calculates. His white reverse lights come on again. He looks at us. He looks at the curb. I look at his tires and want to kick his ass. I�m going to miss breakfast. Finally, in an exasperated tone, he asks us to move back so he can get out. To which Joe obliges and we both chuckle.
CURB = 1
GIANT SUV TIRES + ROCKSTAR = 0.
And then we realize that he left because they wouldn�t serve him breakfast. See Leah. See Leah be sad. See Leah and Joe drive over the puny curb, spin out and blow smoke all over the people in line.
Just kidding. We just drove away like regular people following the arrows and lines to the exit. With our heads hung low and no McDonald�s breakfast. And our cholesterol levels sang for joy.