A Clown in the Drive-Thru
We used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders.
That summer I was working at one of those Taco Bell / Pizza Hut hybrids and I’d tell people (many would of course ask) that I just simply liked to Líve Mas and one way of doing so were continuous attempts to truly Outpizza The Hut — that I liked to be within hands’ reach of a Crunchwrap Supreme and/or personal pan pizza for 40 hours a week, give or take.
They’d generally look at me quizzically with maybe a little bit of worry and then neglect to take the conversation any further, which was kind of why I’d engineered that as my canned answer — though I can also honestly say that the sentiment was true and I had the blood pressure and cholesterol figures to prove it.
Not a knock on that kind of establishment at all, but I did understand why people would wonder about my working there. I don’t think anyone would earnestly argue that very few people aspire from childhood to work the drive-thru of a Taco Bell / Pizza Hut in a small town in the middle of a midwestern state, especially not at 33. (Or at least not after childhood; as a kid it sounds like a pretty dope job, especially if you know the food is free or discounted.)
But I also think almost everyone out there has some sort of understanding of what it’s like for things to happen in life…
