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Normally I don't terrorize Drive-Thrus. And neither do my friends. I'd say about 80% of the time, or more, we were mature, responsible young adults. Even in highschool. But somehow that mischief gene we all share occassionally cropped up, out of nowhere, and one night Pablo, Matt, and I decided to hit up a few drive thrus. Okay... more than a few. The goal was to visit every drive-thru on 5600 west, which would be quite an undertaking, had we succeeded. We didn't hit them all, but we came close. Here are a few that I remember.
(I don't remember in which order these happened, just that they happened.)
Burger King:
We contemplated the idea of going into this drive-thru backwards, but Pablo (who was driving) couldn't be talked into it. Almost, he almost went for it. But his better judgment took over. So we pull up in this drive-thru and they ask us. "Welcome to Burger King, may I help you?"
"Yes," I tell them. "We'd like some directions."
"Okay..."
"Can you please direct us to the nearest McDonalds?" (McDonalds is across the street and in plain sight.)
"It's across the street."
"Thanks."
We leave, laughing. Thinking we're soooo funny. And decide that was easy, let's do another.
We go to McDonalds, this time Pablo is "at point." At the drive-thrue prompt the girls asks what we'd like to order.
"Um..." Pablo says. "What's on the Big Mac?"
She lists the ingredients.
"Does it have special sauce?"
"Yes."
"What's in the special sauce?"
"What?" The girl sounded like the cliche "valley girl" and came accross as pretty stupid. I decide to help Pablo out.
"I'm allergic to a lot of things," I holler over from the passenger side. "So what, specifically, is in the special sauce?"
"The Big Mac has Big Mac sauce." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if she'd answered our question. We all laughed.
"We'll have 10 Bic Macs with extra Bic Mac sauce," Pablo says. Matt and I wonder what he's doing.
"Okay that's (however much $) please pull through to the first window."
I look to Pablo. "I'm not paying for any of that."
"Neither am I." This particular drive thru has two lanes and no curb, so Pablo jerks his car to the side and we discreetly slip away from the drive-thu. People were waiting behind us and some fool must have been surprised we he got 10 Big Macs.
Continuing on we hit Taco Bell. We pull up and before Pablo could say anything I blurt out. "Is this El Habenero?"
El Habenero is a dine-in Mexican Restaurant over three miles away.
"No, this is not El Habenero. This is Taco Bell."
"Oh."
"May I take your order?"
Then, for no apparant reason Pablo mutters "Carne" in the most desperate, old-man-sounding voice I've ever heard. (Carne is "meat" in Spanish.) Then Pablo peeled out and we were off to the next place.
I don't remember what we did/said at Carl's Junior, Skippers, and Arby's, but I'm pretty confident we hit them all. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) the only other place I remember clearly is Fazoli's which, I believe, was the last and longest of them all.
It's an Italian place so pablo spontaneously decides to speak some of his rusty Italian, of which he only knew a few words. We pull up and the girl asks us for our order.
Pablo mutters something in Italian with a Columbian accent. Apparently the words were ambiguous, but two things he said were "I'd like a dity kitchen" and "I'd like a dirty Italian."
The girl paused each time, and waited. Mumbling "What?" Which she repeated about ten times. "What?" (pause) "What?" (italian mumbling) (pause) "What?"
We continued this, curious to see how long she would last.
"I can't understand you," she said slowly, frustrated. This took quite a while, and eventually someone came over who spoke spanish. In spanish, he (or she, can't remember) asked us to pull up to the window. So we did.
"?Cómo puedo ayudarle?" (How may I help you?)
Fortunately, Pablo is fluent in Spanish. So, in Spanish, he asked for directions.
"Can you please tell me where the (freeway?) is?"
(Replying in Spanish) "Sure. It's over there."
"Gracias."
And we leave, ending our rounds that night and laughing hysterically.
(I don't remember in which order these happened, just that they happened.)
Burger King:
We contemplated the idea of going into this drive-thru backwards, but Pablo (who was driving) couldn't be talked into it. Almost, he almost went for it. But his better judgment took over. So we pull up in this drive-thru and they ask us. "Welcome to Burger King, may I help you?"
"Yes," I tell them. "We'd like some directions."
"Okay..."
"Can you please direct us to the nearest McDonalds?" (McDonalds is across the street and in plain sight.)
"It's across the street."
"Thanks."
We leave, laughing. Thinking we're soooo funny. And decide that was easy, let's do another.
We go to McDonalds, this time Pablo is "at point." At the drive-thrue prompt the girls asks what we'd like to order.
"Um..." Pablo says. "What's on the Big Mac?"
She lists the ingredients.
"Does it have special sauce?"
"Yes."
"What's in the special sauce?"
"What?" The girl sounded like the cliche "valley girl" and came accross as pretty stupid. I decide to help Pablo out.
"I'm allergic to a lot of things," I holler over from the passenger side. "So what, specifically, is in the special sauce?"
"The Big Mac has Big Mac sauce." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if she'd answered our question. We all laughed.
"We'll have 10 Bic Macs with extra Bic Mac sauce," Pablo says. Matt and I wonder what he's doing.
"Okay that's (however much $) please pull through to the first window."
I look to Pablo. "I'm not paying for any of that."
"Neither am I." This particular drive thru has two lanes and no curb, so Pablo jerks his car to the side and we discreetly slip away from the drive-thu. People were waiting behind us and some fool must have been surprised we he got 10 Big Macs.
Continuing on we hit Taco Bell. We pull up and before Pablo could say anything I blurt out. "Is this El Habenero?"
El Habenero is a dine-in Mexican Restaurant over three miles away.
"No, this is not El Habenero. This is Taco Bell."
"Oh."
"May I take your order?"
Then, for no apparant reason Pablo mutters "Carne" in the most desperate, old-man-sounding voice I've ever heard. (Carne is "meat" in Spanish.) Then Pablo peeled out and we were off to the next place.
I don't remember what we did/said at Carl's Junior, Skippers, and Arby's, but I'm pretty confident we hit them all. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) the only other place I remember clearly is Fazoli's which, I believe, was the last and longest of them all.
It's an Italian place so pablo spontaneously decides to speak some of his rusty Italian, of which he only knew a few words. We pull up and the girl asks us for our order.
Pablo mutters something in Italian with a Columbian accent. Apparently the words were ambiguous, but two things he said were "I'd like a dity kitchen" and "I'd like a dirty Italian."
The girl paused each time, and waited. Mumbling "What?" Which she repeated about ten times. "What?" (pause) "What?" (italian mumbling) (pause) "What?"
We continued this, curious to see how long she would last.
"I can't understand you," she said slowly, frustrated. This took quite a while, and eventually someone came over who spoke spanish. In spanish, he (or she, can't remember) asked us to pull up to the window. So we did.
"?Cómo puedo ayudarle?" (How may I help you?)
Fortunately, Pablo is fluent in Spanish. So, in Spanish, he asked for directions.
"Can you please tell me where the (freeway?) is?"
(Replying in Spanish) "Sure. It's over there."
"Gracias."
And we leave, ending our rounds that night and laughing hysterically.
