McDizzamn!
So as usual, I rode my bike to work today, unfettered by 90 degree+ temperatures and a heat index into the 100's.
However, I neglected to bring food, or cash, and thus left myself at the mercy of a person with a car, or an act of unexpected charity, in order to fulfil my substinence-eating habit. You know, LUNCH.
Needless to say, I had to bike my ass to go get food at any place that would take my tattered credit line. Fortunately, a tailwind and the nearby bike trail promised to get me there on a paved surface.
Knowing that the nearest food establishment was nearly two miles away, uphill, I tried my hardest not to sweat as I sailed down the trail, aided by the ample cloth of my long-sleeve shirt. Suddenly, a giant "M" protruded ahead of me and above me, higher than the trees, beckoning me to enter its sanctuary of fast food: the golden arches of McDonald's.
Being that the next nearest places were impossibly far, and with butt cheeks already sticking to the melting leather of my bike saddle through my jeans, I decided to succumb to the deliciousness of globalization and late capitalism. I coasted over to Micky D's.
Upon arrival, and realizing my lack of a bike lock, I made a run for the drive-thru, where I was told to go inside. Apparently I lacked an eternal combustion engine, 2 tons of weight, and high-intensity air-conditioning. Thus, deflated but not defeated, I went inside with the rest of the rabble.
Promptly, I was yelled at: "HEY, YOU CAN't BRING THAT IN HERE!" as I got into the coveted number two position in line, in what was a virtually empty interior. I stammered. Then I argued. "THERE ARE NO BIKE RACKS OUTSIDE!" I protested. To no avail. I was told, leave it outside or leave.
I got really pissed off. Dozens of offensive comments shot through my mind. No wonder you're all so fat. You OPEC-supporting fascist bastards. Late-capitalist pigs. Etcetera. Sadly, hunger got the best of me, and I cleverly placed the bike in the space between the outside and the inside of the restaurant, removed from the view of the mean, bike-hating McDonald's henchmen. I got a chicken mcgrill and some fries.
So in the end, I have filed an online complaint to McDonald's for attempting to stifle my environmentalist attitude of not driving.
I shall let you know how it turns out.
Until the next time, love and peace, and no fast food,
Joaquinie
However, I neglected to bring food, or cash, and thus left myself at the mercy of a person with a car, or an act of unexpected charity, in order to fulfil my substinence-eating habit. You know, LUNCH.
Needless to say, I had to bike my ass to go get food at any place that would take my tattered credit line. Fortunately, a tailwind and the nearby bike trail promised to get me there on a paved surface.
Knowing that the nearest food establishment was nearly two miles away, uphill, I tried my hardest not to sweat as I sailed down the trail, aided by the ample cloth of my long-sleeve shirt. Suddenly, a giant "M" protruded ahead of me and above me, higher than the trees, beckoning me to enter its sanctuary of fast food: the golden arches of McDonald's.
Being that the next nearest places were impossibly far, and with butt cheeks already sticking to the melting leather of my bike saddle through my jeans, I decided to succumb to the deliciousness of globalization and late capitalism. I coasted over to Micky D's.
Upon arrival, and realizing my lack of a bike lock, I made a run for the drive-thru, where I was told to go inside. Apparently I lacked an eternal combustion engine, 2 tons of weight, and high-intensity air-conditioning. Thus, deflated but not defeated, I went inside with the rest of the rabble.
Promptly, I was yelled at: "HEY, YOU CAN't BRING THAT IN HERE!" as I got into the coveted number two position in line, in what was a virtually empty interior. I stammered. Then I argued. "THERE ARE NO BIKE RACKS OUTSIDE!" I protested. To no avail. I was told, leave it outside or leave.
I got really pissed off. Dozens of offensive comments shot through my mind. No wonder you're all so fat. You OPEC-supporting fascist bastards. Late-capitalist pigs. Etcetera. Sadly, hunger got the best of me, and I cleverly placed the bike in the space between the outside and the inside of the restaurant, removed from the view of the mean, bike-hating McDonald's henchmen. I got a chicken mcgrill and some fries.
So in the end, I have filed an online complaint to McDonald's for attempting to stifle my environmentalist attitude of not driving.
I shall let you know how it turns out.
Until the next time, love and peace, and no fast food,
Joaquinie
posted by eduardo ramos at 1:41 PM
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