"Our most ancient metaphor says life is a journey. Memoir is travel writing, then, notes taken along the way, telling how things looked and what thoughts occurred. . . .This is the traveler who goes on foot, living the journey, taking on mountains, enduring deserts, marveling at the lush green places...as a pilgrim, seeking, wondering." -Patricia Hampl

January 03, 2011

Drive On Thru to the Other Side

There ought to be more drive-thrus.  For everything.  

(N.B.: I realize that I've just posted that I'd be happier making slow amore to a cappuccino in Italy than shouting a coffee order into a six foot metal box--but since there's no chance that we'll be getting to Italy anytime soon, please read on.)

Maybe I'm getting that lazy-ass, American-style, can't-park-close-enough-to-the-entrance kind of way about me.  Drive thru--it's such a lazy concept, we can't even spell it correctly.  But when it is 20 degrees and snowing, the toddler is somehow sleeping in the backseat next to the infant who's wailing, and you don't just need diapers, you NEED them, NOW, because you forgot to remind your husband to bring some more home on his way from work last night and there were two major poop-throughs (not thrus, mind you) at 3 and 5 a.m. precisely, and you were just too tired to remember to ask again this morning and something smells funny in the backseat... well, there ought to be a drive-thru for that.  

A drive-thru for small groceries or even a bottle of Tylenol would be terrific, right?  I think about this when I pass our neighborhood Dunkin' Donuts--the only one in town, mind you, with a drive-thru: I've readied my $1.20--in loose change from Heath's dresser, because what else is loose change good for?--and the line of SUV's looks like a motorized chain of junkies waiting for their fix.  I'm strong enough to go home and make my own, which I usually don't wind up doing because once I'm home, there's Stuff to tend to.  I need not expand on the marathon of a day at home, because you know it already.  Onward.

Why am I penning this now?  Because our pediatrician asked me where I'd like to have our latest prescription called into-- the usual spot? he asked.  No, I replied.  The OTHER one.  The one with the drive-thru.  He cocked his head for me to explain.  I'm too tired to schlep them both IN to the store.  I'd rather just wait in the car.  Is that okay?  I couldn't tell if he was laughing when he left the exam room or completely disgusted with me.  

It's not that I don't want to ever leave my house or car again.  Egads, no--though the online grocery shopping idea is starting to appeal to me (c'mon, Wegmans).  

1 comment:

  1. drive-thrus are a god send. when my 3rd was born I had 3 kids under 3, so i've spent the last 2 years avoiding going anywhere that didn't have carts available to corral at least one kid. now that the youngest is 2 and refuses to ride in the cart anymore, drive thrus are even more appealing because wandering through a store with three kids in tow, all at various rates of speed, each and every one of them touching everything they see is SO not fun. Add slushy snow in the parking lot (that they HAVE to touch or stomp in or eat) and it is quite a production to leave the house. i am so not a 'park as close to the store as humanly possible' type person... unless my kids are with me.

    I agree that drive thrus are a must for every establishment that could possibly cater to a person with kids, but why not go one step further and just wish for delivery? A grocery store that could deliver a fresh box of diapers/wipes/bananas/whatever when I've planned poorly and run out would be the best thing ever. If they also brought me Starbucks I'd kiss them on the lips.