Want Fries With That?

“Hope you enjoy it.”

Those were the four words the dude in the paper hat uttered as he handed me a logoed paper bag speckled with grease blotches.

“You bet.” was all I could think to answer him.
jolieBut really, when was the last time anyone enjoyed a McDonald’s hamburger?

If I had wanted to enjoy my lunch, I could have stopped at Jolie Pearl and dined on exquisite Louisiana oysters char-grilled to perfection served with a cold beer in a frosty mug.

stroubeIf I had wanted a lunch to remember, I could have stepped across the street to Stroube’s for asparagus wrapped in prime rib, shrimp and tasso pasta, and a double shot of Woodford Reserve. I could have shared the joy with a fledgling reporter who would have graciously picked up the tab in exchange for my expertise and effort turning the meeting we just slept through into Must-See TV.

rufIf I had wanted lunch to be an experience, I could have made reservations at Ruffino’s for a pork belly appetizer and a pineapple martini. I could have followed that up with two bone-in, grilled pork cops and Bananas Foster. And the lobbist in the short skirt would have plied me with liquor in hopes of a fluff piece on her Save the Slugs legislation.

But I’m a photog. I don’t get to enjoy lunch.

On the news beat, lunch is something you swallow fast to keep the lining of your stomach from rubbing against itself. It’s something you chase with half a roll of Tums to keep from belching in your afternoon interview’s face.

Lunch is something you wield single-handed behind the wheel while trying to keep the mayo from splattering on your “good” logowear. It’s a necessity, like charged batteries, lens paper, or formatted SD cards. Lunch is something you slurp from your cup holder, remnants you pluck from your lap, debris you eat off the car seat.

FullSizeRenderLunch is something you hide from the Assignment Desk, lest you be sent chasing happenstance before you order hits the take-out window. It is something you gorge secretly. Shamefully. For no one should ever have to eat the garbage a newsie must swallow on the fly.

So, no. I will not enjoy my Big Mac. I will shove it down my neck without tasting it, and wash it down with a watery soda just as the News Gods intended!

But I gotta say, the plastic Mario figurine will look great on my dashboard.

Categories: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

the warble

the official blog of Karen Ullo, author

Todd Rossnagel

My phone calls me "Horse Nail"

My great Wordpress blog

Just another WordPress site

Craig Runs

Yet another running blog

Ubiquitous Bubba's Blog

Books, Characters, Alien Poetry, and Ponderings

Foul Mouthed Hooligans

Stories so good, you'll need to wash your mouth out with soap.

Live to Write - Write to Live

We live to write and write to live ... professional writers talk about the craft and business of writing

The Life and Times of Nathan Badley...

just like Moby Dick, but shorter and less whale-oriented.

Model Husband

This is not a relationship blog


Daily Thoughts and Meditations as we journey together with our Lord.


A Louisiana boy finds a home in Tennessee

baton rouge music studios

225.769.6225 | contact@brmusicstudios.com

R. D. Harless

That's a hot box of cereal

live apartment fire

Confessions of a grey-headed reporter

%d bloggers like this: