Or: How a Burger King run turned bizarre (and I didn’t even get my Whopper Jrs.)
Our story begins at roughly 1 am (Eastern Time, for those of you who are concerned about such things), and I am sitting in my dorm room, chatting with the GF when my stomach sends a message up to my brain saying, “Hello. I’m the organ you didn’t bother feeding yesterday with all your silly moving people in. I’m hungry. You know what sounds good? Whoppers.” My brain counters, “Whopper Jr. = $1 apeice.” Stomach says, “Great! I’ll have three.” I, in turn, tell this to my GF (greatly paraphrased as “I’m hungry.”), and she tells me I really shouldn’t, as I’m supposed to be working on those washboard abs (which is also true). My stomach and brain then have a long argument, during which time I start to say goodnight and such to lovely GF. With her in bed, stomach very quickly wins the argument. I’m so glad Burger King just extended their hours to 2 am, I think to myself. I set out.
I get to the intersection where I can go straight to get to the BK. I see the sign lights are turned off and what appear to be employee cars leaving. I look at the clock and see it is 1:20 am. Well, damn, I thought. This is no good. But wait! There is another BK by the interstate! I shall try there! I turn to head north to the interstate.
Now, to get to said interstate, there is a little section of US 231 that is outside of city limits and has a speed limit of 50. I respectfully obey the limit. (No, seriously.) Then I see police lights in my rear view mirror. Oh, probably just going to the hospital that is directly in front of me. I pull over to the left (as I was in the left lane getting ready to turn to BK). Cop car pulls up behind me.
Double-yew-tee-eff is this? I say. I just put the sticker on my license plate last week. My seat belt was buckled. I just looked at my spedometer to see I was driving the limit. I believe all my lights were working properly. What is going on? Police officer (sheriff, technically) shines flashlight directly into my completely bewildered face. “There is no reason you should be driving that fast!” he yells. More confusion on my part. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” he asks, still in an elevated tone. “I was going 50, wasn’t I?” I said, completely uncomprehending what is going on. “I had you clocked at 78,” he says. “What?” By this point, not only do I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, but now I’m scared shitless that I’m going to get a big time speeding ticket. Like, felony type speeding. “Where are you coming from?” he asks. “Just coming up from Wabash, sir,” I reply. “Where are you headed?” “Just up by the interstate.” “To get something to eat?” “Yeah.” Discussion continues for a short while (I don’t remember what was said at this point, but I do remember him conceding that the car he clocked could have turned around already), and he eventually tells me, “Well, I’ll take your word for it. Just slow down.” “Yes, sir,” I meekly reply. I go up a little ways to see BK is closed here, too.
I’m a bit shaken at this point, as you might imagine, but my stomach still demands food. I know good old standby McDonalds is open 24 hours, it says. Yes, their burgers have a “heavier” taste, I would have much rather preferred the “light” taste of a Whopper (I have no idea if that makes sense to anybody else, but those are descriptions that make sense to me), but they will do. I go through, order my food, and pull up to pay. I had my debit card over to the cashier, to which he lets out a sound of frustration. Great, I think, what now? “Do you have any cash?” he asks me. “I’ve been having trouble with the computer tonight and I forgot before I swiped it.” Well, damn it, I thought. “No, I don’t.” I try to think of solutions to pay. Before I can come up with me, the cashier hands back my card, “Just for tonight,” he says with a wink as he puts a finger to his lips. “Thank you so much,” is all I can come up with. I break out into laughter after his window closes.
If that’s not instant karma, I have no idea what is. All I have to say is I have a great many thanks to owe to the McDonald’s guy and whoever else was looking out for me tonight.