Burger King...of Kings?

Whew! Zack finally got paid! Time to stop selling our stuff on Craig's List so we can afford groceries. And even though I'm grateful to be able to do it, grocery shopping is one of my all-time LEAST favorite things to do with my kids. Seriously. ALWAYS ends in catastrophies of Biblical proportions. Today, feeling incredibly wealthy with my $11 in spending money, and stoked about the fact that we wouldn't have to borrow money for gas again this week, and due to the fact that I was procrastinating going to the grocery store with my kids, and also because you never, NEVER want to take my kids to the grocery store when they're even remotely hungry...I decided to take them to...BURGER KING.

Now, we aren't really much of a fast food family. Well, at least I'm not much for fast food. My husband and kids love it. But when we do go, it's usually to Chic-fil-a. It's clean there, they play good music, I like their food, I like the company's values, they have a fairly clean indoor playground, my kids like it there...it just seems like the upper-class of fast food. And if the food I'm consuming is going to be made fast, I'd like to think it's also fairly clean (a girl can dream).

Today, however, we were nowhere near Chic-fil-a, and I was pretty sure I couldn't feed all 3 of us for $11 there anyway. The boys voted for McDonald's, but I always imagine homeless people sleeping and relieving themselves in the outdoor playground. I can't be certain, but that's how I'd swing it were I a homeless person...and we've come close a few times, so I've had time to think it through. But I digress...

Incase you were considering a career in psychology, might I suggest heading to the Burger King on US 19 in Holiday. It's a mecca for the crazies. We ran into several very intoxicated very large men who wanted to get friendly with us in the food line; an ex-marine who followed us outside to talk to us about his days in Nam (I think my boys' new buzz cuts triggered some memories); a disgruntled employee who decided to take her smoke break with us while we were outside eating, until I finally asked her if she wouldn't mind smoking elsewhere; and finally there was Roger.

Roger rode up the sidewalk on his bike which was loaded down with a duffel bag, basket, papertowels, spray bottles, and a MASSIVE sound system which was blasting something equivalent to Kenny Rogers. I turned to look when I heard the music, and he was already waving at me. I looked away quickly, realizing he was homeless and, judging by the Burger King patrons I'd met thus far, CRAZY. He parked his bike over by our smoker friend, and I told the boys to stop staring at him. It was hard though, considering the loud music and big hat he wore with a large dollar sign and the word "money" written all over it. As he headed inside, I heard him mumble "I'm gonna get them something." I didn't turn to look, assuming he was talking to himself.

"Young lady!" I looked up. "I'm going to buy them something, okay?!" I glanced at Allen (my 5-year-old, who was giving him 2 thumbs up), then back to the man, whom I then noticed to be a middle-aged, clean and semi-attractive man (though the strength of his cologne made my cheesburger taste musky).

"Oh...no, thank you...they're fine."

"I just want to get them some ice cream."

"Um, thank you...but, they're okay. Thank you, though!"

"Okay," he said annoyed, "I guess if you really don't want me to..."

I tried to hurry the boys along as they ate, knowing the crazy homeless man was sure to want to dine with us. He came out with his ice cream a few minutes later and sat beside me. He told me he liked kids, and said he could still go back inside and get them ice cream if I'd let him. I thanked him but refused. I'm sure he'd panhandled all day to earn the money for such a treat. Then he told me all about how wealthy he was, how he had $1.2 million, but didn't like to flaunt it--hence, the bike filled with finds from thrift shops. He told me about his neice. Told me about the company where he made his millions. I tried to be nice, but I wasn't especially friendly...he made me feel pretty uncomfortable. As we left, I thanked him for his offer. He'd gotten a cell phone call by then (I assume his broker), and couldn't really say goodbye. It was just as well--I was ready to get away from this place in a hurry.

We left and went grocery shopping, which wasn't as bad as usual. When Zack got home, I told him the story about Burger King and Roger, the man we ate lunch with. When I told him the part about him saying he was a millionaire, Zack said maybe he was an angel! Maybe he was sent there to give us some money, and I should have asked!

Hmm. I don't think that man was sent there to give me money, but...maybe...just maybe...he really was an angel. I hadn't even considered that. Come to think of it...maybe the smoker was an angel. Or maybe it was the Vietnam vet, or the large guys with the dread locks who looked high as a kite. Any one of those people could have been angels really. And how did I treat them? Like crazies.

Hmmm...what if that Burger King on 19 in Holiday is, like, this place from an alternate universe...a testing facility to see how we'll treat people when they look or sound or smell a little different than us. Maybe Roger really is a millionaire. Or maybe...just maybe...Roger was Jesus, trying to see if I'd let him buy my kids an ice cream, or even just not act annoyed by having to hold a conversation with someone I looked down on.

Or maybe it was just a low-end fast food restaurant full of crazies.