kids-sized orange juice

I recently passed a McDonald's (just like everyone else) and got to thinking about how my relationship with that place has changed over the years. More recently it's become something of a disease to not only my body, but my wallet as well. I used to invest, on average, $45/week in gorging myself on those small, conveniently-packaged little death vehicles.
I remember going seven or eight meals in a row with nothing but McDonald's. One time I went two weeks, Monday through Friday, breakfast and lunch - Mickey D's, let alone some dinners, plus the weekends. To this day I'm sure I can still scarf down three double cheeseburgers in under ten minutes. My food life was ruled by a pursuit that kept offering a little more satisfaction, then a little more, then a little more, as if I couldn't get enough.


That's the hate portion of this love/hate endeavor.


I also remember as a boy coming back from a trip to the dunes, or headed out west, or hopping over the state line to go see Adam and them for the weekend. Michelle (Sissy) was still in high school, Mike (Mikey) was at Kekionga, and me, well I was the one in the middle of the back seat sipping on a kid-sized orange juice and eating a hash brown and half an Egg McMuffin. I look back and realize that that part of those experiences was the same thing that another part of me has now come to despise. As we leave the Park Vista and head down the twirling road to the bottom of the hill, we start heading out of Gatlinburg and stop at the Golden Arches for some breakfast. The pines fly by, our ears pop, I yawn 10 minutes later, my ears pop again. I pull out my Talking WhizKid Plus and play some game or another, maybe Tic-Tac-Toe, or word scramble. At some point, I fall asleep leaned up against the window listening to mom's oldies music. At another point I'm tucked in at home next to the Power Rangers night light, slipping into restful oblivion.