UP And The Ghetto Mickey Dees

Today was a scheduled filled day. The boys had their last swim lesson bonanza of the summer  and we decided for the evening a trip to the movies to see UP and then grab a bite to eat after.

Up was super fantastic and I highly recommend it maybe for the older kids. It’s kind of deep on a certain level and kids less than 6 or so may get somewhat restless and may miss the full meaning of the story. That’s just my humble opinion based on a 5 year old who felt he needed to head to the bathroom every ten minutes. There’s nothing that gets my goat than a kid who “thinks he has to go every ten minutes just because he’s bored” while I’m trying to watch a decent movie. 

After taking him to the bathroom for the 4th and final time toward the end of the movie; I assumed his bladder should no longer have even a drop of liquid left to expel. Naturally I assumed wrong. The instant we get in the car he’s crying and moaning that he has to go. Which makes me pretty confident that he never actually went when he went.  Yes, he persists that he go in the men’s room while I stand outside the door. Please don’t hate, as he’s just been brainwashed  by his  brothers in thinking that he’s a man and can go on his own in the mens room.

Since I had already promised a fine dining experience of Mickey Dees, we headed to the closest one to the theatre ,since the Boss insisted he had to go now or he was going to pee in the grass.  Maybe I’ve been spoiled for the last few years and haven’t been to “that” part of town in awhile nor visited a ghetto Mickey’s( nothing personal about the ghetto or Mickey Dees) in awhile . I actually didn’t think I was in “that” part of town, I should have gotten a clue with the pan handler at the intersection.

We pulled in and it looked pretty vacant (clue number 2?) We walk in and there’s a dude wearing a hoodie with a baseball cap and the hood over his head is completely covering his eyes (clue number 3) sitting at the very first table by the door. (who sits that close to the door when the place is empty?) I’m instantly in guarded really uncomfortable mode. You know the mode, where you don’t want to look like your  overly paranoid (never let them smell your fear) yet your not really sure where else to look and how else to act when a person is out of place – 100 degrees out..who wears a hoody? Yet it’s also like a bad car wreck because you want to look and try and figure out exactly what is going on with the dude.  I knew I wasn’t going to be comfortable but to late to turn back now.

We order our food and it takes a sweet forever (which I guess, is reassuring to know the food was fresh). I head into the play area to keep a safe distance from hoody dude. The instant I walk in, all the kids had piled their shoes literally right there at the door instead of in the shoe box a short distance away. Of course my red neck kids had also thrown their shoes off there too. Oh heck no, we may be red neck but we try not to show it off at ghetto Mickey Dees. You know, in case there’s a gang war or something- we want to be inconspicuous.

I try to find a table that’s actually clean, my pickings were slim. If I recall during my small stint with working in fast food, we cleaned and restocked during slow hours, but what do I know? I chose a table that looked clean enough…sigh. They were out of napkins and I had gotten the last 4 straws. 

My sweet innocent children suddenly became wild banshee children.   The boys know the rule about not playing until after they eat. This rule has been established and set in granite since Gameboy was just a small guy. Somehow their brain went bazerk, and when I called them several times to come and sit and then they look at me as if they have never seen me in their life and are wondering why is the crazy lady screaming at us? I got a little peturbed. I had to bring out the mean momma guns. Have I mentioned I hate to raise my voice in public?  Threats were made and children were dragged by their ear (not literally..almost though) to their seats, with their response “we didn’t know!” Please excuse me while I bash my head on the wall.

The final straw was  that my mother ordered an iced coffee. Now,  I’ll admit, I’m not an expert on the iced coffee. I believe coffee  involves the following;  a cup of coffee -preferrable fresh brewed, a little syrupy flavoring,  and maybe a little milk and then ice. My mother was given iced milk with a little syrupy flavoring of coffee. Yum!

I may sound like I’m complaining but actually I’m just sharing with you my experience, because sometimes I take my cushy existance (for the moment) for granted and it helps to remember that not every Mickey Dees is sparkly clean and not all people are uniformly sane looking, and not all Mickey Dee workers have some competency to their jobs, and not all of us live in sunshiny suburbia and lastly the ghetto is not just a part of a song sung by Elvis. .


4 thoughts on “UP And The Ghetto Mickey Dees

  1. Oh this brings back memories of being lost and on vacation and kids in the back seat while a friend of mine and I roam around in the VERY worst part of some town we knew nothing about and the kids cry that they want to go home and one repeats over and over and over, “Look! I broke my banana. Broke it all to pieces….” OVER AND OVER AND OVER, I tell you! You could have cut the tension in that car with a knife! My friend and I broke into hysterical giggles when we finally found the freeway. And got on it. With our LIVES!

  2. I can just tell I’m going to be that high strung kill joy of a mother. I have yet to take MM to a McDonalds play area (or anything similar) and I’m loathing it already. I prefer Wendys anyway.

    It is good to remind ourselves sometimes how good we have it – when things get bad you can think, “At least I don’t live near that slummy McDonalds.”

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