Thoughts On the Road

Sadly, I said, "Good-bye," to my fav foodie friend to start on the 6-hour drive back home. Amanda sent me back with two bags of kimchi that she made earlier during the week, one for me and one for our good friend Jenn. So I grabbed my bag and loaded all my stuff in the car: clothes, souvenir beer glasses, computer, and grocery bags of Amanda's homemade fermented spicy cabbage. I strapped my kimchi into the passenger seat and started on the journey home.

So I hit the road, not feeling the hours as they passed. My windows were down, the music was blasting, and the wind breezed through the car. When the radio started getting fuzzy, I looked at the time to see how far I had left to go. It was nearing 8:30 p.m. so I decided to stop and get gas. I'm rather neurotic so I carry mace with me but I'm still cautious of my surroundings. As a general rule, I don't like to be at gas stations, alone, after 9:00 p.m. So I looked for a well-lit exit, turned my blinker on and shifted to the right lane. I must admit, the reason I stopped at the exit I decided on was not for the cheap gas prices (though it's always a plus) I stopped because of a particular fast food restaurant.

Amanda told me about "Cook-Out" and the name stuck with me in the same way that you perk up whenever you hear someone say the boy's name you like. You can't help but want to hear every detail. "Huh? What was that?" I asked her. She continued, "Their banana pudding milkshakes are so good! They use real banana pudding."

So naturally, when I stopped for gas, I had to stop for food, and I had to stop at Cook-Out. I ignored the fact that I had a full dinner a whole 2 hours before. "California has their In-and-Out Burgers, Tennessee has their Backyard Burgers, and North Carolina must have their Cook-Outs," I reasoned. "You have to try this place out," I said to myself.

I walked in, noting how crowded the little fast food joint was. Families were seated everywhere in their Sunday Best. Their health score displayed proudly: 99 in bold red type. I felt underdressed for this establishment and was instantly overwhelmed by the menu. I stepped up to the counter, anxious because there was too much to read on the menu. So many choices. I asked the girl behind the counter what was good here and she gave me a look that said, "Really? You can't make this decision on your own? We're a fast food place." She answered, "Um, the chicken sandwiches are really good and so are our burgers." I felt stupid. Then I felt snobby because I didn't take any of her recommendations. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to get out of there. It felt like a bad date.



Quickly, I ordered a chili cheese dog with cheese and onions, a corn dog, chicken nuggets, and something called a Cheerywine Shake. I didn't order off various parts of the menu just because. That was all apart of the combo meal. I got all that food for less than $5? "That's amazing!" I thought, but well, I also found it a little eerie.

I left Cook-Out and headed towards the nearest gas station, eating the chicken nuggets on the way. They were a little better than the economy sized bag chicken nuggets you buy at Wal-mart. I got $20 worth of gas and while I waited for the tank to fill, I ate the rest of my corn dog. Five minutes later, I was on the road again with more than enough time of beating the rush of crazies that would be piling into Texacos at 9 o'clock.

I turned back onto the Interstate and changed the radio station. Sadly, the only station coming in was Dawson McAlister's Advice Hour. I turned the radio up as the next caller made her way through, "Dawson, I met this guy on the internet and 2 weeks later we moved in together and then he beat me and I put him in jail." "Excuse me, wwwhat?" Dawson and I said at the same time. I continued listening then reached for the chili dog. "Waiit. How am I suppose to eat this" I started cursing fast food chains, "Why would you put chili on your menu? You can't eat that in the car. Your job is to have car-friendly foods!" I reached for a fork. Didn't work. I should have taken a minute to meditate. If I had thought it through, I could have cut the dog into small pieces before I started driving again. But I didn't. Stubbornly, I continued on.

Eating a chili cheese dog, while driving down the Interstate, is a lot harder than it sounds. To add to the challenge, there were onions on my chili cheese dog and every time I reached for my Cheerywine Shake (which is like a cherry-flavored coke float, just in case you were curious) I had to waste 2 1/2 napkins to clean up.

Morbid thoughts drifted through my brain. I spilled chili on myself and was having problems paying attention to the road. "What if I get into an accident?" I couldn't help but wonder. I could hear it on the news, "Girl in her early twenties found unconscious on the side of the road, flown to the nearest hospital. Cause of accident unknown though subject was covered in what appears to be chili. Car smelled strongly of fermented cabbage. She is in stable condition."

"There must be others like me," I thought. Surely someone's out there in a lab somewhere modifying foods to make them more car friendly. Is it possible to put chili and cheese into a corn dog? My life would be so much easier if it was. I don't think that people really appreciate the genius of a Hot Pocket. One day, one day, things will change.

-Jennifer