There’s a plague raging in New York City. We try to stay indoors as much as we can, those of us who have the option. We avoid being near people when we go out (again, those of us who don’t live outdoors). We wear masks and wash our hands frequently. Stores are doing their best to keep people safe, marking the sidewalk outside to let people line up at least six feet apart. Some places, the smart ones, require customers to come in a very few at a time, wearing masks, touching only what they purchase, or having people with gloves select the items they point out.
This is a highly contagious, sometimes deadly disease without a cure at this time. The death caused by this virus is a terrible one. The best course, though not without its obvious problems and frustrations, is keeping this deadly pathogen off your hands, your face, out of your lungs and not spreading it to others if you are an asymptomatic carrier.
Since New Yorkers can’t get to fast food, and cravings don’t stop just because there’s a pandemic, fast food will come to you. Underpaid workers who need the cash (now deemed essential workers by our mad King who uses the War Powers Act to order low-paid meat processing plant workers to go to work) deliver things like fast food hamburgers and fruit punch, on demand. This bag was on our stoop a few nights ago, two cheeseburgers and a fruit punch, an order we didn’t order.
For many years I loved McDonald’s hamburgers, though I tried not to eat them very often. They were not designed for healthy eating, they were simply delicious. They were engineered to have the perfect balance of the addictive: salt, fat, sweet. I haven’t eaten meat in many years (though a few shrimps I encountered recently would probably contest that) but I still clearly remember the taste of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. I recall all the flavors combined into a Big Mac too. As they say, just because you become a vegetarian doesn’t mean bacon suddenly stops smelling delicious.
There was no address on the receipt stapled to the bag, where it listed the two burgers and the fruit punch. (At least I was relieved of the thought of McDonald’s fries being in the bag). The house next door is rented to college students, and as there was a light on upstairs, I brought the bag of food over to their stoop and left it there.
The light stayed on in the student house day after day, I guess the last one out just forgot to turn it off. Two or three days later I gripped the bag’s handle with two fingers I later disinfected (I had no ultraviolet light source to introduce under the skin) and walked the bag over to a garbage bin down the street.
Here is the part I am lovin’ —
We have hungry raccoons who patrol the area regularly, as well as the occasional large possum and a couple of colonies of constantly prowling feral cats. All of them hungry, all constantly on the hunt, all meat eaters. Not one of them touched the bag of fast food.
I’m lovin’ it!