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Late Night

Posted by on January 4, 2011

Recently we met up with Jon and Rob at Lucky 13 and enjoyed several pints of their finest. Afterward, Gene’s throat smarting from his oncoming cold and both of us stumbling a bit, the choice between going home and not going home was made much clearer when we noticed the Jack in the Box across the street. (Suburban living, y’all!) We meandered over and discovered the restaurant portion closed at ten. (Suburban living, y’all.) However, the drive-through was still open. We had no car, but Gene was undaunted. We needed french fries, and not that good kind you get from the late-night kebab shop either.

One thing I like about slightly tipsy Gene: he tends to forget that he is a big, intimidating guy with scary facial hair. So when he began wandering up and down the drive-through lane and eventually approached the next car that entered, I think in his mind it was sort of a civilized, “do you have the Grey Poupon” moment. Whereas I can only imagine how the young lady behind the wheel was taking it, especially with me standing several feet away, swathed in bulky jacket and hood and yelling “Don’t scare her! You’re scaring her!”

Anyway, in spite of my vociferous protestations, Gene convinced the driver to order for us — stopping her before she continued on to order for herself, of course. Separate checks, please. So, not only did we scare the pants off her, we cut in front of her in line.

In the end we got our food, but I walked away shaking my head. “We shouldn’t do that,” I said sternly. “They do not like it.”

“It’s Jack in the Box,” Gene said, shrugging.

I guess he’s right, really. There are certainly rules one should follow — I like thou shalt not kill; some people are into the first amendment, and so on — but you have to draw the line somewhere, and drawing it at Jack in the Box rules seems pretty safe.

I still refuse to jaywalk or cut off mattress tags, but I think I just got a little more rebellious.

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