Suburban Errata

All I wanted was a cheeseburger. What I got was a milkshake full of my own acidic condescension.

Amen, sister.

I knew it was a bad idea to stop at Target. As a pretentious city dweller, I go to the ‘burbs for two reasons only, to work or to golf. When I am out in the Valley of Silicon, the opportunity for one-stop shopping with easy parking usually proves a powerful temptation. I fill my trunk with light bulbs, deodorant, the Hanes t-shirts with the stay-flat collar that Charlie Sheen likes, and disturbingly large boxes of cereal and other foodstuffs. I buy Vitamin Water at a third of the price I pay at my local urban convenience store, and that makes me happy.

After a run through the glossy lower-middle-class chaos of Target last week, I ventured deep into the belly of the commercial suburban beast in search of the delectable In-and-Out Burger. It was no task for the weak-willed; I nervously navigated the nooks and crannies of the labyrinthine shopping structure for twenty minutes in search of five bucks worth of artery blockage.

In-and-Out Burger is all over the place these days in Northern California. But in the not-so-distant past, we San Franciscans would literally cut across four lanes of highway traffic if we spotted an In-and-Out, risking life and limb and waiting in snaking, hour-long lines for the finest burgers in the land. I guess I had a flashback.

With the proliferation of outlets, these meaty treats are now attainable on a daily basis. Their sheer availability has cheapened the experience and tarnished the mystique, but it’s still a radiantly delicious burger. Sometimes I simply must have one.

In the midst of my fantastic voyage, I recalled the feeling I had as a teenager on the way to the mall, the enervating expectative joy that came with the impending plunge into my preferred stores. We all had our favorites—Spencer’s (it was our Hot Topic, for those under 30), Foot Locker, Chess King, or Benetton, depending on one’s position in the high school food chain. The stereotypes represented by each stores’ regular clientele were surprisingly consistent. I guess that’s why they’re stereotypes.

As I crawled between speedbumps, I played a little game with myself by trying to guess the final destinations of various pedestrians by their attire.

The lady in striped (horizontal stripes??) sweatpants: Joanne Fabrics. Band of animated teenage suburban gangsters sporting backwards caps and sagging jeans: Best Buy. Guy in too-small Hawaiian shirt with exposed hairy ass-crack: Chili’s.

City slicker in his Mercedes holding up traffic by looking at Google Maps on his iPhone in the middle of Earth’s most confusing mall complex: In-and-Out Burger.

Mecca for the famished yuppie lost in suburbia.

Alas, I made my way to the drive-through and acquired 2,000 messy, delectable calories. I drove home ashamed of my judgmental diversion, though satisfied enough by the thought of a teenage girl in platform flip-flops telling her boyfriend about the dick in line ahead of her at In-and-Out.

Like This!

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

2 thoughts on “Suburban Errata

  1. In-n-Out is now officially on the clock…of doom! Being born and raised in the DC Area I learned that the best burgers in the world are made by 5 Guys. When I left there many years ago, I did so assuming good burgers were like pizza and every town would have one place that could hit a homerun. Erroneous!

    However, my long personal nightmare is over. As I was mattress shopping at big box mall, I saw what was needed to fill the hole in my heart – 5 Guys was in San Jose! Any a mile from my house no less!! Despite having eaten a delicious dinner, I nearly went in to order a burger.

    Now instead of just sounding like a bitter east-coaster, I can now SHOW people out here how much better it can be. Can useful public tranportation really be that far behind?

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s