DRINKING: because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad.

The provocative phrase, written on a cocktail napkin of vibrant blue hue, drew a laugh and my quick purchase at a local gift shop. It’s evoked many a laugh since, as we shared among guests in our home. Suddenly it reared as a dare in my mind, a challenge to write a salad story… Lift your fork! Here goes:

The table was red, the chair was red, painted the color of Ronald McDonald’s nose. Thank goodness there was no red on the floor, to suggest human blood spilled – or catsup squirted in ill-fated attempts to open a self-serve packet. Ronald’s fare may be calorie laden, and in sometimes challenging packaging, he didn’t deserve to die.

I hate the sight of blood. From the gore of battle movie scenes to the pin prick required for diabetes self tests. Tis the reason I didn’t become a nurse, EMT, or doc. I don’t even wear red clothes.

It was a typical day in my service-oriented vocation and avocation days, a day when I’d barely scheduled time for lunch. McDonalds’ Golden Arches were on the way from here to there and fifteen minutes would do. I loved the chain’s SouthWest salad despite my foodie friends’ disparagement.

Though the wait til the order counter was brief, my hunger-panged anticipation stopped full with the order taker’s reply. Further, there was no air is my lungs to shout, “What do you mean? McDonalds has discontinued the SouthWest Salad?” The minimum wage counter worker cowered at the cash register, likely as chagrined as I. ‘Don’t kill the messenger’ flashed like neon from her green eyes.

I re-grouped. I ate a Quarter Pounder with double-sized fries in revenge.

I guess that the napkin is right. No great story here: I didn’t eat salad and, because it was the middle of a hyper-packed workday, I didn’t drink my blues away.

Well, I drank Scotch and water without the Scotch, which I amended at the end of that loo-ong, hyper-responsible day.

But that’s another story… I relish retirement and no longer being over-encumbered with demands for under-funded time.


That’s my story and I”m sticking to it. What about you?