A Burger For What Ails You

Yesterday I needed something.  I did not know what.  I just knew I needed something.  A break.  Encouragement.  A little variety.  I was discouraged.  I was tired.  And I wanted to go home to my couch and my cat. 

I read through my e-mails.  There, in my inbox, was the answer.  The Seattle Times wanted me to know that I could have a hamburger (or cheeseburger) for $.19.  If it had been any old burger, I might have passed.  But it was a Dick’s burger.

I have discussed Dick’s before.  I am a fan.  So are billionaires and musicians.  It is a local perk and it works for me.  I frequent them, darn it.  And if I can snag one for $.19?  Well, okay then.

Walking would have made more sense.  I work less than half a mile from my branch.  But no.  I decided to drive.  “It will be on the way home,” I told myself.  I thought, “It is a Thursday night.  Not a Friday.  No Kraken games.  Everything will be fine.”

Then I tried to find parking.  Using their lot soon proved to be out of the question.  I drove around the block and found a metered spot. 

Did I feed the meter?  Nope.  “How long could it take?”  Heh.  Silly Cosand.  And no, it is not lost on me that I risked a $44 ticket in order to save $2.50 on a burger.  I know the math is not in my favor.  What can I say, sometimes you need to be illogical.

As I walked up to the building, I saw that the company’s advertising campaign had paid off.  Funny how word of mouth spreads when it comes to spending less than a quarter.  Who am I kidding?  We all knew one burger would not do.  We all bought a milkshake or fries or another burger.  We knew, and Dick’s knew, that they would get a boost in business.

Sounds fine to me.  They pay their workers well.  Their burgers are tasty.  They are local.  If I can get two burgers and a milkshake for $7.21?  Show a little affection to a neighborhood institution?  Then I am in.

I looked around and saw that the majority of people around me were twenty-somethings.  It makes sense.  They catch the tweets and the notifications.  They are not rich.  Why would they miss out?

I noticed another thing.  I looked at the lines.  I looked at the people around the sides of the building, munching as they rested on the counters.  I stood behind a guy who was being affectionate with his girlfriend. 

As silly as it might feel to say it, I felt a part of something. 

There I was, just one more guy getting a burger for $.19.  Like everyone else around me.  A guy who wanted quality food for a ridiculous price. 

(Though, honestly, I am glad it was not the same night as a Kraken game.  That place would have been full.)

It was one little blip on the calendar that would add to a pile of memories.  I have run across the Viaduct before it closed.  I have climbed up all the stairs of the Space Needle.  I was there when Pacific Science Center was declared a national landmark.  I have watched with others as a rainbow visited the Seattle skyline and I have seen The Dark Knight on the biggest indoor screen in the state.  For all the things I like to do alone, I feel like part of a community when I do things with others.

I stood for fifteen minutes in line, not minding being surrounded by happy people.  I drove home, moving in the mass of cars that made up commuter traffic.  Then, finally, I had my quiet night with my cat and couch.

Judging by the way she attacked the brown bag, Nala would have liked her own burger.  Maybe next time.    

About Cosand

He's a simple enough fellow. He likes movies, comics, radio shows from the 40's, and books. He likes to write and wishes his cat wouldn't shed on his laptop.
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