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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1019557-Fast-Food
Rated: E · Other · Comedy · #1019557
Or what's really on the menu
Just the other day I went to a fast food restaurant to grab a quick hamburger, small fries, onion rings and a bottled water. This was my first time visiting this particular restaurant, a new chain with the first location only just recently open in the area. The restaurant advertised the cheapest, tastiest burgers anywhere, and with a price of about fifty percent less than any where else, I was inclined to agree. They had their own distinct flavour and sauce that was receiving raves from everyone. I thought it was time I saw for myself what all the hype was about.

Since I arrived well before the supper hour, there weren’t too many diners present. I ordered my meal and answered a few questions regarding the fixings, lettuce, pickles and so on. Then, I patiently waited for it to be prepared. I was pleasantly surprised to receive it quite fast, living up to the name fast food for a change, and it was it exactly as I ordered. I carried my tray to the condiments counter and picked up some napkins and ketchup. There were no newspapers lying around to keep me occupied while I ate, so I sat with my back to the window where I could observe the comings and goings of everyone else in the room.

There wasn’t a lot to observe since only a few tables were in use at the time. One had a young couple, teenagers most likely, sitting close and holding hands as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes. Another had two elderly couples chatting and laughing over their coffee. A third was occupied by a mother with three children, one of which was sleeping soundly in a stroller. The only other table was my own. I sat unnoticed watching how everyone was so involved in the daily routine of their lives.

I was sitting fairly close to the bathroom, a room which struck me as rather odd. I call it odd because this was a relatively new building with enough tables to seat well over a hundred patrons at any time. The door had the customary logos of a man and a woman as well as the wheelchair insignia for the disabled. I looked around at all the walls to confirm my suspicions, and sure enough, it was the only bathroom for the entire restaurant. It had a sink, toilet paper holder, a hand drying machine, wall mirror and a single toilet. That was all easy to see as the door was opened and closed every few minutes by someone from the seniors’ table while each took a turn, giving me a clear view of the inside of the room. While including the usual stuff, it seemed to me to be conspicuously absent of the customary standup urinal.

I took a bite of my burger and marvelled to myself about the absolutely unique and very delicious taste. It was probably the best burger I’d ever had, and I always considered myself rather a connoisseur of fast food restaurants, especially those selling hamburgers which was my diet’s only real weakness. The price was incredibly cheap and the food was totally an experience in its own. Clearly, I was impressed, and knew I would become a regular as several of my friends had. That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen those friends in awhile. I would have to make a mental note to call them soon. They were friends of my parents and elderly in their own right.

It didn’t strike me until later than I remembered the table where the elderly customers sat was always full. That was to be expected since the outside signage advertised fifty percent off everything on the menu for seniors. I nibbled on my fries and noticed that as one person got up and went to the washroom, another person entered the restaurant to take their place.

Except, I was convinced those who entered the bathroom never seemed to come back out. I thought it must be getting quite full in there as each person entered and remained, but every time the door was opened it appeared empty and ready for use. With careful scrutiny from my seemingly innocent casual observations, I determined there was no other exit.

My curiosity finally got the better of me. I was finished with my meal now, so I eagerly continued to sit, watch and wait. I knew it would only be a matter of time before yet another person from the table I had under surveillance would require use of the facilities. I quietly hoped none of the younger children ‘s bladders needed relief until I could sort out this strange bathroom occurrence. Fortunately, they didn’t. They must have gone prior to entering the restaurant or were too absorbed in eating their special Kids’ meals and playing with the bonus toys.

I anxiously waited until an elderly gentleman stood up and slowly approached the room of my attention. I got up and quickly walked to the bathroom before he got there, opened the door and entered, closing and locking it quickly behind me. The room was clean, very well maintained, and definitely had no other exit. A sign on the wall requested retired applicants “to provide their best parts to a new fast food experience, something their grandchildren, friends and neighbours could all enjoy for years to come.”

Nothing else appeared out of the ordinary, except maybe a cane hanging on the side of the sink. I washed my hands and pressed the button on the hot air machine to dry them. I felt hot air rushing at me from the ceiling, then suddenly a strong suction in the same direction. I held onto the sink with all my strength believing if I didn’t I would be sucked right away into the ceiling. After a few seconds it stopped. I believed it must have been a malfunction in the ceiling unit, and I would report it to the management. I also noticed the cane was gone.

I left the bathroom and held the door open for the elderly gentleman who glared at me for rushing in before him. Then, I returned to my table and sipped on my bottled water, all the while keeping a steady eye on the bathroom door. As I emptied the tray’s contents into the garbage can, except for the still half full bottle of water, another elderly gentlemen from the same table approached the bathroom. I was about to say it was occupied when he turned the knob and the door opened. He entered it like all the others and closed it behind him.

Now I was positive something was terribly wrong. I went to the counter and demanded to talk to the manager. After I informed him of my suspicions, he politely suggested I leave the restaurant and never come back. I began to protest, but stopped myself when the young manager appeared to be holding back a grin. I knew he thought I must be crazy. Since by now I was so flustered, I was inclined to agree.

I rushed out of the restaurant, ran to my car and drove away. I started to sweat profusely, and with my stomach churning I knew what I had to do. I pulled into a parking lot a few blocks away, opened the door and allowed my dinner to fall to the asphalt below. Without daring to look at it, I rinsed my mouth with my left over water and spat it to the ground. I closed my door, put the car in gear, and as I drove away I knew I would never look at a bathroom quite the same way ever again. My diet has changed too. I no longer eat fast food, no matter how good the price.
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