Did You Say McDonald’s?
In a previous post, I recommended Dignity by Chris Arnade, recounting his tour of the wrong side of the tracks all across America. Early in his travels Chris identified McDonald’s as an ad hoc community center for retirees, homeless, unemployed and general down and outers. Open 24 hours a day, with a largely no ejection policy, conversations in a booth at McDonald’s are ideal to take the pulse of those left behind by the financial and cultural changes of the last few decades. In addition to his book, Chris has a Substack called Chris Arnade Walks the World. I encourage you to check it out.
Truth be told, Rosie really does not like to move around. When we are on the road, we move every few days. Each time, I get a look from her that says “Can we just stay here for a while?” So Rosie and I have a deal … on driving days, instead of making breakfast, we always stop at McDonald’s. I order the same thing every time, 2 Egg McMuffins, one for me and one for her, and a black coffee. Now the van does not fit through the drive-thru, so I always need to go inside. I take the Egg McMuffins out to the van to eat, so I don’t have the long conversations Chris has. Still, you still get a taste of local life.
One such travel day, Rosie and I pulled into the McDonalds in Kinston, NC. When I went inside, the place was surprisingly crowded … most of the morning trade is drive-thru. There was a decent line of working men and women waiting to order breakfast, but the source of the delay was clear. At the counter was a woman of about 55 or 60 years old, pencil thin, dressed only in a short pink bathrobe, barely reaching her thigh, fuzzy slippers on her feet, and nothing else. She was having a cheerful, animated, high volume (quantity and quality) conversation with the cashier as she tried to get her order just right. Up on her fuzzy toes and back again, she danced along the counter, reading the menu display, out loud, as if she had to be perpendicular to the text to read it. Eventually, the order was resolved and the movement of the line returned to normal.
The woman taking the order was incredibly patient. She placed, corrected, added, subtracted to the order until the woman in pink was satisfied. In addition, no one in the line seemed to care … no grumbling, no pacing about, no looking at phones. It was as if everyone there said to themselves … one wrong turn and that could be me. A kinship of sorts among people close to the edge in Kinston, NC.
