The Raving Redhead: Tales from the Drive-Thru

I admit it. I like fast food. It’s not my favorite thing on the planet to eat, but I am from the home of Elvis, whose favorite food was deep-fried peanut-butter and banana sandwiches. So consider that before you judge me.

I like fancy food, too. I like escargot and tuna tempura served rare with artfully dashed out wasabi paste. I know what a coulis is, and I like to ask what the seasonal greens are. (And, aren’t all greens seasonal somewhere?)

I don’t get that kinda stuff much. You can tell, because I still call it fancy food. But I like it when I get it.

I also like little radish and carrot sculptures to accompany whatever I eat, but you don’t get that much, either, when you are paying through a window from your pickup.

The other day, I was picking up comic Isaac Witty at the airport, who was in town to do one of my Clean Comedy Nights here in Virginia. We stopped to get lunch at a Chik-Fil-A. Now, I love Chik-Fil-A. The food is good, and they are always so dang polite. They almost always say “Sorry for the wait,” even if you are still fishing for change in the bottom of your complimentary Barnes and Noble tote bag.

Are they being sarcastic? Am I too clueless? Should I have had my money ready before I ordered? No worries. They apologize to you!

At the drive-thru speaker thingy (the official name), I ordered Isaac’s sandwich: “One chicken sandwich, no pickle.” I ordered my sandwich: “And one chicken sandwich with extra pickle.”

She repeated our order, like they do: “That’ll be one chicken sandwich, no pickle. And one chicken sandwich no no pickle.”

What? I leaned in to the speaker: “I want pickle.”

She came back.

“That’ll be one chicken sandwich, no pickle. And one chicken sandwich not without pickle.”

I leaned in to the speaker: “I want pickle.”

I looked at Isaac, who was stifling laughter, and said, “What was that, a quadruple negative?”

Now, you must know at this point in my little story that my first job, after babysitting, was at the Wendy’s drive-thru window. I know how it feels to be on the other side. Arguing with people about whether or not the Frosty is a milkshake.

Them: It’s a milkshake.

Me: It is not.

Them: It is too.

Me with the Wendy’s script: No, sir, the Frosty is a half-chocolate, half-vanilla frozen dairy dessert.

Them: (laughing loudly with dog barking in back seat) Then gimme one of them Frosty-milkshake-thangs.

I have other Tales from the Drive-Thru. Like the Taco Bell north of Denver that has the window on the wrong side. To punish you for not having friends who can pass you the food, one can only presume.

I went through a McDonald’s once and asked for a medium Diet Coke.

She says: We don’t have medium.

I say: Well, what do you have?

She says: We have small, large, and extra large.

I say: Well, give me the one in the middle.

Now and then, though, something brilliant happens at the drive-thru. They give you too much change and when you point it out, they say “Don’t worry about it.” They give you a large instead of the medium you paid for, and for the sake of the planet, you mutually agree to not waste another cup and keep the large. Money earned.

But here is the best one yet. My husband Gary and I went through our local Mickey D’s (and you can tell I live in a small town because I said “local” – we have one), and when we got our change, there was a quarter in it … from 1899!

Where but the land of Jefferson would you get that?

With hot fries to boot.

Yeah, that was a good day.

Teresa Roberts Logan is a comic, cartoonist, and artist, who has an Art Blog at www.LaughingRedhead.typepad.com. Her latest book of cartoons, “The Older I Get, The Less I Care,” is available from Andrews McMeel Publishing, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and some drive-thrus. Really, it’s widely available. Other places you can get way more info than you needed on Teresa are www.LaughingRedhead.com and www.ShoutLife.com/LaughingRedhead.