We have all kinds of nicknames for Carlos. ‘los is my go-to, although there are few silly names that have evolved over the years: Losee Gos, Stinky Pete with the Smelly Feet , Toad McNutt, Old Man, Donkey Boy. Recently, because ‘los is so thin on his backside, it’s been Tony La Boney. Kinda fits AND it rhymes. He likes that.
On a recent stop for fuel there was a McDonald’s adjacent to the filling station so I went in for the mandatory cheeseburger to-go. Well, this was right about the lunch hour and being second in line the gal asked me my name after ordering. Caught me off guard so I just said. . .Tony? Handing me the receipt she said, “Okay you’re number 164.” Two minutes later another gal behind the counter shouts out, “One cheeseburger for Tony.” I grabbed the bag, thanked her, and snickered as I walked to the van where Tony LaBoney was patiently waiting for his well deserved cheeseburger.
Ten seconds later, that cheeseburger disappeared.
One time, while feeding Carlos his cheeseburger, Hali took a bite. The bite with the pickle in it. I looked at her with disdain, wrinkling my nose and said, “Eeeew, you just ate dog food.” Have you had a McDonald’s cheeseburger lately? I, at least, pull the pickle out and eat it without biting into that mystery meat.
And there are the stops where WE can enjoy lunch WITH Carlos. We detoured in Athens, Ohio, to have a hot dog in a joint called O’Betty’s and the World’s Largest Hot Dog Museum (of its kind).
This stop near Roanoke, Virginia, served burgers we could all enjoy: Papa Burger, Mama Burger, Puppy Burger.
One time we stopped around ten thirty in the morning, “Sorry were only serving breakfast.” What? “Okay, I’ll have a sausage biscuit.” Carlos wouldn’t eat it- too salty. So we now try to arrive after eleven. Darn breakfast all day. Bring back cheeseburgers all day!