Saturday night, not happy about getting wake up calls at two in the morning from my friends who clearly had been having a good night with some pals by the name of Miller and Bud, I let the phone ring and ring. Thinking it over and maybe it’s something serious, I answer. Twenty minutes later I’m pulling out the driveway of some guy’s house in my car loaded with two of my best friends, one of their boyfriends, a freshmen I’d never met, and incessant bright flashes from someone’s camera sitting behind me.
They demand to get food before going home and after a moment of hesitation, I willingly surrender to their impetuous chanting “COOK-OUT! COOK-OUT!”.
After parking the car, they all rush the line to place an order and I decide to take notes on my phone about the chaotic environment. I lean on the side hood of my car and hear the murmur of a million cars speeding by on College Road, the indecipherable and drunken slurred language of tons of college students, as well as the screeching brakes of an old beat up Crown Victoria passing through the drive-thru. I try to discern the voices and immediately recognize my friend arguing with the freshmen that there aren’t baked potatoes on the menu. The siren of a police car sounding across the road causes people to turn in the direction of the loud whirling noise. The crowd gets quiet and then all at once returns to the loud volume of drunken conversations.
I try to listen beyond the chatter and hear the plastic swinging door of trashcans flapping, a crumble of muffled ice and a thump as someone drops their full XL Styrofoam cup to the pavement, the cash register drawers slamming shut from inside the building, ripping of paper from the receipts (to be handed to the customers), car engines humming. The dialogue inside a Volvo wagon going through the drive-thru calls my attention immediately because of the loud yelling of the people inside it. The guy driving is trying to order while his friend in the passenger seat is screaming about a “mexi-dog” and a “large-ass sweet tea”. They both keep talking at the same time and the lady taking the order continually asks them to repeat their words. I can hear the dull and sandpaper scraping of tires across the cement as a kid drags his bike at an awkward angle towards the window to place an order; there’s also a car parked with bass thumping to some top 40 hit. With all of the noise, it’s actually quite comforting, reminding me that I need to appreciate the ephemeral joys of college life.
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