Tag: McDonalds

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A Roswell Encounter of The Worst Kind


The rugged mountains and the slow-mo village of Ruidoso, New Mexico, are two of my favorite places. Momo and I try and visit a few times a year, and this year, in February, we are taking a road trip to the mountains and hopefully some snow. Momo likes communicating with the wild Deer via nose-to-nose rubs and feeding them Quaker Granola cereal. She’s quite popular with the local wildlife, and they seem to know where we are staying and what time we arrive. Word travels fast in the forest.

One stop we look forward to is the McDonald’s in Roswell, New Mexico. This isn’t a run-of-the-mill burger joint; the building is built to resemble an alien saucer inside and out and is complete with small alien statues around the exterior of the building. We love it, as do thousands of other earthly visitors who flock there to take pictures and eat an alien burger.

On the first trip we took to Ruidoso years ago, I spent eight hours talking up Roswell, the saucer crash that happened in 1947, the government cover-up, and space aliens in general. Momo was worked up and ready to meet a spaceman by the time we rolled up to the space-age McDonalds. We had a burger, checked out the local costumed weirdos that hung around the place, and then got on the road to Ruidoso. I told her to be on the lookout for aliens, since the town is lousy with them. I had never seen her so excited and hopeful. She put on her tin-foil hat, got her iPhone camera ready, and was looking for a close encounter of any kind. A block or two from the McDonalds, she had a conniption fit and almost jumped from our moving car. Walking down the sidewalk with two larger human units was a small alien in a red suit and silver shoes. We pulled over, and she jumped out and started taking its picture. The parents of the big-headed little boy in a Spider-Man jammies didn’t take kindly to a crazy woman with a tin-foil hat taking pictures of them. I felt sort of bad, but not too bad. She still believes.

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Show A Little Kindness And Respect


I wrote this story a year ago but thought it would be appropriate to re-publish it today.

Last Saturday, before Memorial Day, my wife MoMo and I stopped at one of our local McDonalds for a sausage McMuffin and a Coke. Breakfast for two for under six bucks. We were on our way to Fort Worth for some items I can’t recall at this moment, but we often make the trip because our hometown, Granbury, Texas, is small, and the only place to buy things is Walmart and H.E.B. for food. I would as soon take a licking from a Cocaine Bear than shop at Walmart, but I give in, and we do; everyone in town eventually has to.

Sitting and eating our meager breakfast sandwich and sharing a Coke, I noticed an old man sitting alone at a corner table. I’m now officially an old man, but this fellow looked to be in his nineties. He wore a black ball cap that read; “Korean War Veteran” and a tee shirt with the American flag on the front; a walking Kane rested on the seat next to him. He wasn’t eating, although a sandwich and a cup of coffee were on his tray. The old fellow was unkempt and needed a shave, and his clothes showed signs that he likely lived alone and felt no need to spiff himself up for a trip to McDonald’s.

My wife says I say things that will one day get me maimed, shot, or worse, and yes, she is right. Outspokenness is a trait I tote in my back pocket, and it gets me in hot water with friends and relatives.

I got up, walking stick in hand, hobbled over to the old fellow, and asked if the folks in the kitchen got his order wrong? He replied that they had given him a more expensive sandwich and charged him more than he could afford, and he couldn’t eat eggs anymore, but it was okay; he would just drink his coffee and leave. Disrespect for our veterans, especially our older ones, who will soon be nothing but an old photograph on someone’s mantel runs deep in our society. The younger people have no idea the sacrifices these men and women made so they could drive their Teslas and keep their faces in an iPhone all day. This was one of the moments my wife MoMo frequently warns me of.

I asked to speak to the manager, a young Hispanic woman, maybe mid-twenties. I wasn’t looking for a fight or to berate anyone, but only to remind this business to treat our veterans with the respect they have earned and deserve. I wasn’t rude but direct, and I shamed her for overcharging him, and they should refund his money and apologize. She was shocked that one of her employees had committed this sin. She said she would make it right by him, but by then, he had emptied his tray into the trash can and walked out. If I ever cross paths with him again, I will buy him a big breakfast and maybe visit for a while; I bet he has some great stories to tell.

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The Cactus Patch Has Had Enough Of Texas…For A While


Hitch up the wagons, load the party bus, and roll em out…

I’m kidding of sorts, we don’t own a wagon or a bus anymore, but the Honda CRV is a good substitute, and it has air conditioning and practically drives itself. It’s been over a hundred degrees here for a month. I’m not talking about a mere pansy-assed 100 degrees; we’re talking real temperatures, like, 105-110, and that’s without a heat index thrown in that makes it feel like a visit to Hell On Wheels Texas in Satan’s un-airconditioned tour bus. MoMo and I are escaping and going to Ruidoso, New Mexico, this week. The land of enchantment, cool air, majestic mountains, and high rental rates. Hoping to see Deer, Elk, Bear, and Aliens if we stop in Roswell. Since the pot is legal in New Mexico, and Ruidoso has a large collection of cute little shops selling the evil weed, we will likely see many old hippie-type folks stumbling around town or cleaning out the Hostess cupcake aisle at “The Walmart.” The last time we were there, MoMo purchased some gummies made in the shape of Willi Nelson’s head, and they messed up my head badly. They were supposed to relax you and let you sleep like a baby.. naturally. At least that’s what the cute little Pot-a-rista told us. All I heard for two days was ” On The Road Again” and “Red-Headed Stranger,” and that was in my head, no music playing. I’m taking ample Irish Whiskey this time. At least if I stumble and fall from the whiskey, I won’t think it’s a revelation or a sign from above and say, “Wow, that was far-out; let’s do it again.”

Aliens eating Egg-A-Muffins and happy meals…

On the last trip to Ruidoso, we stopped in Roswell, New Mexico, UFO, and Alien Central. Having breakfast in the local Mcdonald’s downtown, a short walk to the Alien Museum, was a treat. The place’s interior is all UFO design with a play area shaped like a saucer. There was no shortage of strange people in the place. One homeless alien was taking a sink bath in the men’s restroom, and another ratty alien was begging for money in the parking lot. As we left, MoMo got excited because she spotted a little alien walking with some Earth Pod People. We stopped to gawk and realized It was a five-year-old big-headed kid in spider man pajamas walking with his parental units. She was bummed out. I told her not to worry keep believing because they will be here soon. Turns out, they are here and have been for quite a while now. She’s scared.