Because I'm all about imposing arbitrary food and behavioral restrictions on myself in the name nostalgia, I decided to eat a Happy Meal a day from Aug 16-Aug 20. I went into this thinking that it would be a small (albeit unhealthy) way of recapturing some of the joy of my youth. That didn't happen. Joy eludes me and also probably alludes me.
The girl behind the cash register stared at me like I was the first adult sans child to ever order a Happy Meal in the history of McDonald’s.
I asked for a cheeseburger-Happy Meal and she said, “You mean the bigger one?”
I don’t know what she meant by "the bigger one" but I said, "uh, just a regular Happy Meal with a cheeseburger." Dumbfounded and no doubt questioning everything she’d ever held sacred, she pressed the buttons on her register and handed me my microscopic soda cup.
When my food was ready, a lady--a manager this time--asked me if the Happy Meal was for a boy or a girl. As a kid, I dreaded this question--I wanted the "boy" Happy Meal because the toy was always better, but felt obligated to get the "girl" Happy Meal because I didn’t want to be subversive.
The food was delicious but small.