Properly masked and gloved, I took a walk yesterday afternoon — to the ATM at my bank to deposit a $12.47 check, to a corner mailbox to mail off my WGA dues statement and, since I was in the area, a McDonald's. Since this thing started, the closest I've been to a place that prepares food, not counting my kitchen, was the drive-thru at a Pollo Loco. Before any wiseguy suggests that what McDonald's offers is not food: You oughta see what comes out of my kitchen.
I ordered via their app on my iPhone then walked over and actually went into the McDonald's. I've heard that a lot of their outlets have closed the going-inside part and just operate the drive-thru. This particular McDonald's has no drive-thru and the alterations within were impressive and serious. Everyone in the place was masked and gloved and the counterpersons were behind large, stylish plexiglass panels. The entire counter was not shielded; just the part where you stand when you place your order.
The floor was marked with one-way arrows to lead you into a curving line that snaked all through the dining room up to where you order and it was marked off with WAIT HERE signs spaced six feet apart. At the same time, other signs informed you that to sit at a table and consume your meal there was forbidden. Someone had given this a lot of thought and I felt about as safe as I could have felt in a public place.
When I walked in, I was the only one there so I short-cut the long-and-curving line and showed the counterperson the order number on my app. My credit card had already been charged so all he had to do was hand me my bag o' fries, burger and McNuggets, which was not ready yet. As I waited, a kerchiefed lady came in and as she waited for her order, we got to talking from behind my mask and her kerchief.
On the way in, we'd both passed a rather sad-looking homeless gent outside, leaning on a shopping cart that probably contained everything he owned in the world. He asked me to help him get a meal and I said, "On my way out" and went on in. She'd done the same and she said to me, "I feel like I should give that poor man five or ten bucks." I said, "You put up ten and I'll put up ten and we'll get him a $20.00 gift card." She agreed, we bought one and on our way out together, I handed it to the fellow. He was very grateful and thanked us about eighteen times.
As we walked off, he was still looking at that card like a tiny miracle in hand. You can't get much of a miracle these days for twenty bucks but I guess when you have nothing, anything can be a miracle. I can't quite explain it but I think that meant more to him than if we'd just given him a twenty-dollar bill.
And I felt a strong connection to that lady even though I didn't know her name or even what she looked like. It was a nice moment and when I got home, the fries were still warm and so was I. I think I need to get out of my house and take more walks.