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9:33 a.m. - 2004-12-31
Sonic: It's Just a Jump to the Left (and a Step to the Right)
BFRB and I just should not be allowed to order breakfast when we're together....

So last night, about 10, an IM discussion was had about seeking food. BFRB and I get in the car, pajama pants and all, and decide that we're going to go to Sonic. Sonic is right down the street.

At 10:15 p.m., we place our order: chicken club toaster combo (no tomatoes) with diet cherry limeade (me) and sausage egg & cheese toaster combo with Dr. Pepper for BFRB. We went to the drive-through (rather than the drive-in stalls), because we're cheap and don't want to tip. Plus, like we ever carry cash? Yeah. It's all about the Visa Check Card, baby.

We pull up to the window. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Snippets of conversation:

"What, are they killing the chicken?"
"What the hell did you order?"
"Did they have to go pick the limes?"
"Are we caught in a time warp? It's just a jump to the left...and a step to the ri-i-i-i-i-ght."

Finally, at about 10:30, they give us our drinks and attempt to figure out how to use the credit card machine to collect payment for two separate orders.

In the meantime, some cars (okay, giant gas-guzzling SUV's) have pulled in behind us. The employees are delivering food to their cars.

More snippets:

"Seriously. What did you order?"
"Are they picking the cherries?"
"How long have we been here?"
"What. The. FUCK?"

10:37 p.m. Sonic chick comes to the window and asks BFRB if she wants any jelly. (For what? Her breakfast sandwich? Ewwww.) BFRB says no, of course. We think this means our food is imminent.

Finally, at about 10:45, they bring our bags of food to the window. The Sonic chick takes her sweet time putting in napkins and ketchup in the bags. The window opens ever-so-slowly. She hands us our food, throws off a casual "sorry for the wait" and shuts the window.

Time elapsed: approximately 40 minutes, by the time we got home. Thankfully, our tater tots were piping hot. But there WERE many slices of nasty tomatoes on my sandwich. You'd think that after 30 minutes, they could at LEAST not subject me to tomato slime.

So, was it a rip in the space-time continuum, or just all the competence minimum wage can buy?



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