20/11/2009 § Leave a comment
Today I went to the cinema to see New Moon. I don’t think there’s any need to describe that experience, maybe apart from the fact that my movie buddy brought little mini bottles of white wine for us to have during the screening. It was a first for me, but I have to say – what a great idea.
We were meeting at 7pm, and I knew I was going to be hungry (I spent the day running errands and only had toast in the morning) so I stepped into Maccas for a quick bite (it wasn’t my first choice, believe me). I only ever have one thing there – the fillet-o-fish sandwich and fries. As I was sitting there eating I got a sudden memory flashback to when I was very young and my parents would occasionally take us, my brother an I, to this fast food restaurant. I think it was one of the first fast food joints in town, sort of like a cheap knock off of McDonalds, with red plastic chairs and thick vanilla milkshakes.
I remember one time, there was no occasion, just a sunny spring or summer Sunday afternoon, my parents decided (or maybe gave in to our persuasions) that we were to go. Go to Max! That’s what it was called and I remember yelling out that phrase: we’re going to Max! Or maybe it had two Xs? I remember putting our nice clothes on and getting into my dad’s car – it was dark cherry red – and making the trip to the center. We would stand by the counter and go through the menu thinking of what we wanted, even though we always ended up getting the same things in the end. I would get a cheeseburger and my brother would get a Big Mac (that’s what it was called, I swear). Without fail, there would be a milkshake or two somewhere in the mix, too. One vanilla and one chocolate. And I remember sitting on that red plastic bench, eating my sandwich and looking at my Mum demanding to know why was it that I always ended up with a cheeseburger, and was never allowed to get a Big Mac like my brother (it looked so impressive). She looked at me and said, very matter-of-factly, that it was because I would never be able to finish one. And I accepted that explanation. Because, of course, she was right.
This evening all these memories came flooding back because somewhere in the middle of my meal I looked down at my half finished fillet-o-fish thinking that there was no chance in hell I was going to be able to finish it because I was already so full. Ha, and I think it must have been smaller than the cheeseburger.