Day Two 5:47: Lathrop McDonalds, the Best Laid Plans, no Wi-Fi and Chicken McNuggets.

Community, Travel / Monday, June 27th, 2016
Oh Lathrop, California! How I counted on you! There, just a dozen miles or so from Stockon, how I wanted you to be this magical place at the end of my trip north–past the 580 into a part of the 5 I drive upon so rarely it seems like intergalactic space. I did my best; I got profound. I was very queer. I made heartfelt observations, and learned a whole bunch of new things. I saw antique bicycles and an old Asian woman eating a waffle cone. I broke down, healed, broke again. I had gummy peach candy and refilled my fountain pen with runny purple ink

And all of this, I was going to write at a dependable McDonald’s in this town I have never been to. Why? Because it was right, dammit! It was poetic–the push beyond my limits, the profound surprises. Lathrop–you were in the right place at the right time. Lathrop, you were going to be queer literary conference star!

Alas! Your bathroom, Lathrop McDonalds, is dirty. It is not a pleasure to use. And there are flies, which makes me not want to eat. Your Wifi is down, which I do not find out until after I paid for the Chicken McNuggets I ordered only because I was going to use your Wifi.

And there is a very small baby with a very large voice auditioning for the helium version of Queen of the Night. Oh, wait–now I hear her understudy, as well.

Ah… Crud. Seriously, I am sooo tired, but part of me has to smile. The sweet manager is apologetic about the bathroom, explaining that he hires college students, and teenagers and a couple did not show up for their shifts, and I am just laughing because I am a professor and so get flaky college students.

And I do get the families and the babies. It’s McDonald’s. Getting mad at kids being kids here is like being upset at kids laughing at Disneyland. Families together. Sheesh. At least they have figured out how to have a family. Part of me would trade places with them in a heartbeat. Not a large part, but enough that I feel a little ache inside. And even though I am still really not happy about the Wifi–if this crew can’t handle a toilet, I am not bothering with tech questions. (McDonald’s if you are reading this, though–2 of 3 Mickey D’s had no Wifi on this trip and I am not Lovin’ It.)

Here, at what was supposed to be the end of the road, I realize that you can’t really control how the end happens. You can plan. Everything seems right. You can build and work and create narrative. You can drive an extra 100 miles. You can cry. You can pray to the highway, and even hear the highway respond, feel the miles give you wisdom. Rainbow Bob Ross is painting happy queer little clouds across your heart.

But then it’s Lathrop and there’s a poop mostly in the toilet.  I never want to see another Chicken McNugget again. Yeah. Let’s see how long that lasts.

Oh well. Time to head south. Besides, the conference is only halfway done!