McDONALD'S IS OUT TO GET ME
by Mike Blakesley
Originally published around 1990
in the Forsyth Independent-Enterprise
Whenever I travel, I usually patronize one or more of the
various fast food establishments. Usually we get along pretty well, but
on a recent short road trip, I've determined one thing: McDonald's is
out to get me.
I think they're upset with me because of something I did two years ago.
A friend and I were in Miles City during the Bucking Horse Sale. We had
patronized a couple of the local watering holes and were getting hungry,
so we decided to cruise over to the nearby McDonald's.
Upon arrival at the drive-up window entrance, we wondered what the
people inside would think if we backed the car through the drive-up
area, instead of driving through in the normal manner. Deciding it would
be a good joke, I swung the car around.
The poor employees inside the McDonald's didn't know what to think as we
backed in and picked up our Big Macs and fries.
However, the employees weren't half as funny as an unsuspecting tourist,
who came around the corner just as we were preparing to back out into
The tourist, having placed his order at the speaker, drove around the
corner of the McDonald's and came face to face with my car. He looked
around, and figured he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Then he
backed up, and proceeded to drive around the parking lot, looking for
one of those painted arrows that tells you which direction to drive in.
When we backed out and drove away, laughing our beer-influenced heads
off, the poor guy was still looking confused.
It's been almost two years, but McDonald's is getting its revenge.
I stopped at a Billings McDonald's and ordered some "Chicken McNuggets,"
fries, and a Coke. Since I was in a hurry, I ordered it "to go."
After hitting the highway, it became painfully apparent: McDonald's had
gypped me out of my fries.
You know how you get a craving for something, right? I drove all the way to
Bozeman, just itching for some McDonald's fries. Pulling into the
Bozeman McDonald's, I ordered fries and another Coke.
I should have learned my lesson at Billings. Ten miles down the road out
of Bozeman, I discovered: No salt on the fries, no ketchup for the
fries, and no straw for the Coke.
The next day, on my way home, I stopped
again at McDonald's and ordered a "Filet O'Fish," fries, and yet another
Coke. Having grown tired of eating while driving, I decided to drive to
the nearby rest area
to read a magazine, eat, and relax.
Thirty miles later, I pulled into the rest area, took my magazine and my
food and headed for the picnic table. The wind was blowing just enough
to make it impossible to read the magazine. The "Filet O'Fish" and the
fries were cold. And the area was infested with about ten million wasps.
As I was attempting to eat, a wasp buzzed around my head, and while
swinging at it, I managed to knock over my Coke. It spilled into
the fries, and the rest of it ran down through the cracks of the table
and soaked my pants.
Somewhere in the great beyond, at that very moment, was the late Mr. Ray
Kroc, founder of the McDonald's chain. I could almost hear him
laughing, and saying "That'll teach you to back through one of my