Those Were the McDays

I really miss McDonald's.

Books like Fast Food Nation and movies like Super Size Me are exposing the health hazards of these types of restaurants. The big message now is to eat healthier and steer clear of fast food. Too much of this stuff will kill you.

Okay, I get it. I know that Quarter Pounders and hot apple pies will clog my arteries and add chins to my face. But let's face it; McDonald's can be really tasty. Is there anything better than a large fries, fresh out of the bag? I don't think so. (Especially those stray, bonus fries that hide at the bottom of the bag.) Anyway, it's the whole aura of McDonald's that I miss. It wasn't just a meal, it was a destination.

When I was a kid, McDonald's had an alternate universe known as "McDonaldland". I never read Alice in Wonderland, so I couldn't tell you the difference between the Cheshire Cat and the Mad Hatter. However, I can tell you more about McDonaldland than I can about the very state of Connecticut that I live in. McDonaldland was the realm of Ronald McDonald, the Clown Prince of the franchise, but there was so much more to this magical place.

McDonaldland was ruled by a guy named Mayor McCheese. His head was a giant cheeseburger with eyes and a mouth. (I guess in McDonaldland, you are what you eat.) He also had a purple top hat and sash that signified his rank as a public servant. Besides representing the citizens of McDonaldland, he also represented cheeseburgers, and he was not shy about it. You might cringe at the thought of a politician with such overt biases, but I found it refreshing. There were no hidden agendas with The Mayor. You knew where he stood at all times. It was usually next to a table full of cheeseburgers.

The Mayor's right hand man, and enforcer, was a burley dude called Big Mac. Big Mac was a cop, one of McDonaldland's Finest, and he kept the peace. Big Mac was charged with protecting the citizens of The Land from the many dangers under the Golden Arches. His arch nemesis was a vile creature known as The Hamburglar. His true identity hidden behind a black mask, The Hamburglar was always in the shadows, terrorizing the hungry people of The Land by constantly stealing their food. Ever the enigma, the only words we ever heard from this fiend were "Robble, robble, robble." What did it mean? Was it a message, a warning, a threat? Or was his mouth just full of stolen hamburgers?

McDonaldland actually boasted a roster of villains that could rival that of Batman or Dick Tracy. There was Captain Crook, the pirate who loved Fillet of Fish and The Gobblins, whose insatiable appetite for French Fries kept McDonaldland in a constant state of high alert.
They weren't all bad though. There was also a host of friendly characters who inhabited this world, like The Professor, the lovable Grimace and later on, Birdie the Early Bird. (I'll deal with Birdie later.) Each was known for their love of a particular menu item, and as kids, we would rally behind the characters that stood for our favorites. I was always partial to the Grimace, myself.

Unfortunately, like many things in life, McDonaldland eventually lost its' shimmer. Maybe it started when that obnoxious Birdy showed up for breakfast and made us dread the sunrise. (The Early Bird gets the worm, and gets on my nerves. Nobody should be that cheery first thing in the morning.)

Then the Mcflood gates opened; The Gobblins became The Fry Guys and they even softened up the Hamburglar's look to be cuddly rather than sinister. By the time the anthropomorphic Chicken McNuggets showed up, it was all over… or maybe I had just out grown it all.
Now eating at McDonald's is different. It's just another place to grab a quick bite. The colorful characters have been replaced by apathetic servers who constantly screw up your order and charge you a quarter for an extra packet of sweet and sour sauce. It doesn't even taste as good as it used to. Never mind the guilt associated with eating that stuff. It's just not the same anymore.

But sometimes I sure wish I could go back in time and have one more Shamrock Shake in that special place where they always put the "happy" in Happy Meal.

The Starbucks Code

This morning I went to Starbucks to grab a cup of coffee. I forgot just how freaking annoying those places can be. I haven’t been to Starbucks in a while, so it took me a minute to remember their stupid Da Vinci Code of coffee sizes. I was spacing on what the hell a “large” was in Latin, Italian or whatever dialect that is.

Then, like Tom Hanks in the shadow of Sir Isaac Newton’s tomb, I deduced that “Venti” was the word for large. Triumphantly, I spoke the password and expected to gain access to this secret society of caffeine. Unfortunately, the cranky chick at the counter… I mean “Barista”, did not understand what I said so I had to repeat myself. It’s bad enough to have to say it once, but there was something about saying “Venti” a second time that really pissed me off. Now they are just messing with me. Ordering coffee should not be like playing Simon Sez.

I don’t know why we have to speak another language to order coffee at Starbucks. Maybe it’s more like The Da Vinci Code than we know. Perhaps Baristas are descendants of the Knights Templar, and they are protecting the secret of the Holy Grail. Except the Holy Grail wasn’t Mary Magdalene, it actually was a cup… of strong, over-priced coffee. It was a Venti with three squirts of vanilla syrup; one for each member of the Holy Trinity. Who knows? Maybe the Holy Grail had a cardboard sleeve around it to keep Christ’s hand insulated from the hot coffee. I wonder if Jesus had to use a sticker to cover the hole in the lid to keep the coffee from spitting out all over his hand on the way home.

This kind of thing doesn’t happen at Dunkin Donuts or Donut Delight. It’s much simpler. The only foreign language there is spoken by the employees, not the customers. And they will even add the cream and sugar for you. No need to contemplate if Sugar in the Raw is somehow healthier than the regular stuff. And I never have deal with moral dilemmas, like whether pouring a small portion of my coffee into the garbage to make room for milk is a sin or not.

Okay, maybe I am over reacting. I didn’t mean to get as angry as that crazy albino in the movie. Cut me some slack, I haven’t had my coffee yet.

Luvva Luvva, Hubba Hubba

If you see me walking down the street and I suddenly hug you.
If I leave you a sappy voice mail.
If I tell you I love you with a tear in my eye.
If I wear my feelings on my sleeve for a while, please cut me some slack.

I had an epiphany the other day and it has made me take a look at the big picture. I had a near miss. It got me thinking and it’s really weighing on me.

Life is short people. Your life is now. Don’t miss your chances.

What caused this emotional awakening? The other day the news reached me that there was a fire. It was at Pat’s Hubba Hubba in Stamford, CT. No one was injured, but I did not know the extent of the damage. Was it gone? Burned down? Consumed by the Wrath of God?

My mind raced. Had I had my last steak and chili wedge? I broke out in a cold sweat. Did the crowd at Jimmy’s Seaside see their last, late night, drunken chili dog, or pile of chili cheese fries? I was practically panicked.

Sure, I don’t go there that often, but I know it’s always there. And there are certain times that Hubba Hubba is the only thing that will scratch my itch. Now it might be gone. And I did not have a chance to say goodbye. I took it for granted.
Never again.

I am lucky. Hope is not lost. I hear that they are closed for repairs and renovations. They will be back. I cross my fingers and hope for the best; that they reopen and the menu is the same. I can get that fiery chili drizzled on any greasy dish I desire, and I can wash it down with a coke in a tiny, glass bottle.

So people, don’t miss this wake up call. Tell the people in your life that you love them. Write that novel. Take that trip. Kiss that girl. Learn that language. Get that dream job. But most of all, go eat at your favorite places. Eat like there is no tomorrow, because you never know when there won’t be a tomorrow.

Now if you will excuse me, I am heading up to Beverly, Ma to have a large beef with extra sauce at Nick’s Roast Beef.

Before it’s too late.


PS- I love you. (And chili.)