by Craig Birk
Chapter Ten
In N’ Out
5:36 p.m.
“Well, if you like burgers give 'em a try sometime. I can't usually get 'em myself because my girlfriend's a vegetarian which pretty much makes me a vegetarian. But I do love the taste of a good burger.”
– Jules, Pulp Fiction
The BMW was hurtling up Highway 15 northbound somewhere northeast of Los Angeles at about eighty-three miles per hour. On the right side of the road was a sign alerting drivers that the exit for Highway 40 to Needles was approaching. Inside the car Roger was asleep again and the other three guys were conducting meaningless conversation. Snoop Dogg’s Gin n’ Juice played lightly in the background.
Gary: “Did you guys know Snoopy’s cousin lives in Needles?”
Alex: “Snoop Dogg?”
Gary: “No. Who gives shit where Snoop Dogg’s cousin lives? I am talking about Snoopy the dog from Charlie Brown.”
Alex: “No, sorry, I didn’t realize Snoopy the dog had a cousin in Needles.”
Mike: “Fucking fascinating.”
Gary: “Hey man, Snoopy kicks ass.”
Mike: “I guess so. Is anyone else getting hungry?”
Alex: “Yeah, a bit. What do you guys want?”
Gary: “Taco Bell would be good.”
Mike: “How about McDonalds?”
Alex: “No, I’ll do anywhere but McDonalds.”
Mike: “Panda Express?”
Alex: “Nah, no Panda either. I don’t trust those fuckers.”
Mike: “Who?”
Alex: “You know. Them.”
Mike: “Them, meaning Asians?”
Alex: “Sure. Whatever.”
Mike: “You eat sushi all the time.”
Alex: “Let’s just find something other than Panda.”
Gary: “J-Box?”
Alex: “No, can’t do that either. Had it for lunch. I think if we can hold out for another fifteen minutes there is an In-N-Out in Rancho Cucamonga.”
Gary: “Good call. Anyway, any trip is more complete if it includes a stop in Rancho Cucamonga.”
Mike: “Yeah, definitely In-N-Out.”
Roger was also inspired: “Fuckin’ A,” he chimed in from the back seat, apparently less asleep than he appeared.
Seventeen miles later, Alex pulled into the right lane and pulled off onto Foothill Boulevard, Rancho Cucamonga. Immediately on the right, in the parking lot of a nondescript strip-mall, a relatively modern-looking stand-alone In-N-Out Burger beckoned. There was an open parking spot right by the front door and Alex eased into it. Roger seized the opportunity to rip a loud fart just as the car came to a stop.
Alex was not amused: “Dude, fucking prick. You couldn’t wait another ten seconds?”
Roger was clearly pleased with himself: “I just thought you guys would want a little appetizer.”
All four doors opened and three of the guys rapidly exited the car. Alex reached toward the sky and simultaneously got up on his tippy-toes trying to stretch out from the first part of the drive. Gary had to pee and broke into a slow jog, entered the restaurant and immediately turned right once inside the doors. Though he had not been there for a few years, his brain recalled a detailed knowledge of the layout of this particular In-N-Out.
The other three slowly walked toward the front door, happy to be out of the car, and looking forward to eating. There were only four people in line for food. By the time Gary rejoined them, Alex had reached the register. Somewhere between the car and the entrance, Alex had swapped his Ray Bans for wrap-around silver Elvis sunglasses which he donned inside the restaurant.
Much to his delight, the girl working the register was extremely attractive. She looked to be about twenty-four, with long brown hair, large breasts that snuggled perfectly inside her white In-N-Out crested blouse, and beautiful big brown eyes that sparkled as if they possessed their own energy source. She looked like a fairy tale character that had been accidentally transported into a fast food restaurant. With a perfect smile, she asked, for the two hundred and fourteenth time that day, “Welcome to In-N-Out. What can I help you with today?”
Alex resisted the urge to reply with his first instinct, instead scanning the menu and then looking down at the girl’s chest to read her nametag. Tara, it said. She was wearing the In-N-Out uniform, but not the paper hat that the rest of the crew had. He also noticed that she smelled nice, similar to the standard vanilla-strawberry stripper scent, only more elegant. Curiously, it blended well with the omnipresent cow meat and fried potato aroma permeating the establishment.
Alex: “Hi Tara. Today, I would like a double-double with no mayo, mustard, ketchup or sauce of any kind. And also fries and a large Diet Coke.”
Tara informed him the cost would be $6.15. Alex pulled his wallet from the front pocket of his sweat pants and opened it up. After rifling through a stack of bills and unable to find something small, he peeled off a hundred dollar bill and handed it too her.
She checked it for authenticity, then counted out his change and handed him a receipt. “Here you go, you are number twenty-nine. Your order will be out in about fifteen minutes,” she informed him.
Alex was puzzled. “Fifteen minutes, what’s the deal with that?” he asked, though his tone was more flirty than truly annoyed.
“We don’t make it until you order it sir,” Tara replied.
Alex looked back up at the menu, trying to see if he missed something the first time. Nothing had changed. The only items were the three burger choices, fries and a selection of beverages. He looked back at Tara and removed the Elvis glasses. “Did I catch you guys off-guard by ordering a burger?” he asked.
Tara was not used to getting attitude from the customers and was annoyed. “I am sorry sir, please just wait for your order,” she requested while giving him another smile, fake this time.
“As you wish,” Alex said, stepping aside.
Mike was next at the counter, “Sorry about Elvis Timberlake. We picked him up hitchhiking back in Poway. I really don’t know him,” he said.
Tara laughed, this time legitimately. “That’s okay, don’t worry about it. What can I get you?” she asked.
“Double-double, no sauce, fries and a large Diet Coke, please,” he replied.
Tara laughed at this also. “Okay, that’s gonna be $6.15 and about fifteen minutes.” Mike gave her a five, a one, and a quarter. She gave him back a dime and a receipt, and looked directly into his eyes. “Here you go. You are number thirty. I hope you enjoy it,” she said as her head tilted slightly to the right.
The food actually took only twelve minutes. The group had selected a booth by the window where they could see the car. They simultaneously began unwrapping their burgers. Alex quickly scanned the restaurant to see if there may be any other hot chicks inside, but there were not. He instinctively glanced at Tara before taking a bite of his burger.
Meanwhile, Roger was inspecting Gary’s order. “G-Balls, what’s the deal? A single burger and no fries? Are you on a diet?” he asked.
Gary: “Yeah, I guess. Blair and I are both working out and trying to lose some weight.”
Alex: “I always thought the reason to get married is so you can let yourself go and don’t have to worry about being fat anymore.”
Gary: “Well, believe it or not, you still won’t want to be fat. Plus, if you get fat, that pretty much gives her a free pass to get fat also, and you really don’t want that.”
Roger: “That makes sense, but you don’t look fat.”
Gary: “Thanks, but I’m not so sure. The other day I was at Macy’s buying some clothes and I was in the dressing room. They’ve got like six mirrors in there. So there I am in nothing but my boxers looking at myself from six different angles. It was not a pretty picture.”
Mike: “Ah, Macy’s syndrome. Typical.”
They sat quietly for a moment pondering this. Then each took a bite of their burgers.
Mike broke the silence: “You didn’t have to be a dick to the girl
working the register.”
Alex: “Me? Was I?”
Mike: “Yeah, you were.”
Alex: “Oh. Sorry. Well I love this place, but I don’t know why it is such a shock when someone orders a burger.”
Mike: “It isn’t her fault.”
Gary: “Aw, how cute. Somebody has a crush on the In-N-Out chick.”
Mike: “I don’t have a crush. I am just saying there is no reason to be rude.”
Alex: “Okay, I am sorry if I was insulting. She was pretty hot actually. You should go ask for her number. She seemed to like you.”
Mike: “Totally. That will work out great for the next time I am in the middle of the fucking desert.”
Alex: “Well, whatever then, let’s finish these and get back on the road.”
Mike: “Shotgun.”
Gary: “Dude, you can’t call shotgun before we are headed toward the car. Everyone knows that.”
Alex: “He’s right.”
Roger: “Yep.”
Mike: “Whatever. Jesus. Fuckers.”
