There is no telling how many accidents I almost got into … how many pedestrians I almost killed … how many traffic tickets I could have rightfully received chasing one thing: The drive-thru before 10:30 a.m.
If, on the rare occasion I was up before 11 a.m., I was on one mission before I could greet the rest of my day: I needed a McMuffin, a Croissan’wich or this old, ever-so-brief beauty of fast food breakfast history, the Country Breakfast Burrito.
It didn’t matter how long I gave myself to prepare; nearly every time I found myself arriving in line at the drive thru with only seconds to spare.
I had a couple of these window jockeys try to tell me I was too late when I was well within line by 10:30 and I nearly had to go all Falling Down on them. But eventually, I got my meal. My rubbery, rubbery meal.
There was always a certain sense of accomplishment when I pulled this off. The rest of my day was easier and I carried myself with a certain obese je ne sais quoi.
But those days are over.
That arrogant cocksucker Jack-In-The-Box has decided to take that little bit of light I had to get up before noon and squash it to oblivion by serving their breakfast menu all day.
“Well, Chris,” you may be saying out loud to me while you read this, “You don’t have to go to Jack-In-The-Box to get breakfast. You can still hone your skills at McDonald’s or Burger King.”
Well, this is true, but just knowing the option is out there has deflated my sails, defused my lightbulb, derailed my caboose.
As I grow older, pieces of my younger self die off and I just gotta get used to it. Personics, Zima, and now I guess I’ll nostalgically add Chasing a Fast Food Breakfast to that list.