The Drive Thru Curse is Broken

It’s a well-known fact that my father is cursed by all things drive-thru: anything that can go wrong will. Recently, I’ve discovered it may be genetic.

It started with a series of leaking cups – you know, they dribble just enough to sear your flesh but you can’t drop them, or even jerk them quickly to the cupholder, for fear that the precariously placed lid will pop off. I know these details intimately because twice the lids HAVE actually popped off, bathing me in piping hot coffee. And that was just the beginning.

Needless to say, a quick trip through the drive-thru puts me on instant alert (which is particularly unfortunate since I am also afflicted with a serious caffeine addiction).

This morning was no exception. Having awoken to find my own cream had expired, I was forced to venture out into the world to scavenge for my own fix. Now, I’m a house-bred creature – casting me out into the wild doesn’t tend to end well. So there I was, ramming through the Oxford street traffic, thoroughly annoyed to be awake, and downright disgruntled to be stuck in line behind 8 other cars. A scathing six minutes later, I reached my final destination expecting the worst. Just then, as the window opened, it happened.

The employee at the window took one look at my cup, scowled disapprovingly, and quickly demanded that the coffee-pouring culprit replace the lid and wipe up the mess. She saved me. She could have looked the other way (as the busy employees often do), she could have just shoved an extra napkin my way, but she didn’t. Sure, it held up the line for an extra 30 seconds, but 2 hours later I’m still grateful.

So, to that stand-up citizen: THANK YOU!!! Your random act of kindness has not gone unnoticed. You’ve made my day and restored my faith in drive-thrus.

Well, until my next visit anyway…