What a bore. Don't they ever stop talking?
You've never been this far north, so close to the Canadian border. You thought it might be interesting, going to a state you've never been before. Montana is supposed to be a beautiful state with big mountains and sweeping vistas! Over here, it's just...well...boring. This place is in the middle of nowhere! There's nothing to look at except for a dumb ol' lake with absolutely nothing in it! This conference couldn't even have taken place during the winter, when there would be snow. If it wasn't for the lake, it would be just a plain. A plain plain!
You don't say any of this out loud of course. You asked to come. You could have stayed home in Virginia, but of course you had to beg Dad to take you with him. You don't like being home alone with Aunt Gemma. She's weird, and she brings those stupid cats with her, all of them coughing up hair, her included!
"So," Dad says while shutting the car door and adjusting his mirror, "What did you think of the conference?"
"It was okay," you say. You feel a little bad by the fact that you can't muster up a real compliment, but you can't help but be honest in how you feel.
"Not your speed, huh?" he remarks. "The presentation did go on a bit long. Wasn't it cool to see him though, the famous Al Ray?"
"Sure, I guess." You've taken that much interest in the man. He does own the company your father works for, but that's a world you're only connected to through your dad. He's just some older man with a lot of money, and you met plenty of those already even before the conference.
"That man is a visionary, you know," he goes on. "Made a small family shop into one of the most powerful food businesses in the country, all in less than a decade! He's a genius, and one of the best men I've ever known." You don't doubt it, but it's not that important to you. Dad might admire him, but you barely know him. He had a firm grip with his handshake though. Seemed friendly at least.
Your father takes a breath, pauses, and then changes the topic. "Make any new friends here?"
"No, not really," you answer, honestly. "Most of them already had their groups. No one wanted to talk to me. Some of the bigger kids were playing cornhole. I wanted join, but they were full on players already."
"Gotcha," Dad says, his tone now matching yours. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I wasn't sure how much fun you be able to have here, but I was hoping you'd get something at least. It's all kinda just grown-ups droning on and on about company visions and sales figures." He lets out a long sigh. Dad worked very hard during this entire three-day trip. He seemed really happy that you wanted to go with him, but seems sad knowing that you're not having any fun.
Then, he turns to you, looking at your dejected expression, saying, "Hey, want to get some food?"
"Okay," you reply half-heartedly. So far, Montana hasn't had much to offer you in that department.
But then, you hear the the words you never thought you'd hear. "How about a Number Nine with Fries and a Coke?"
You perk up instantly. "Uh, yeah!" you answer, pleasantly surprised. "But, where-"
"We opened up a new location not too far from here," he says, anticipating your question. "There's a town north of here about twenty minutes from here." Your father leans in and looks you right in the eyes. "Want to go on a little adventure with me?"
The drive couldn't be short enough. You can't help but bounce in your seat constantly the whole way there, and you haven't even had any soda, or pop as the locals say. Weird name...but whatever. All you can think about is your order: a delicious beef-patty topped with true American cheese, fried onion rings, bacon bits, mayo, ketchup and mustard all contained in two seasoned buns. You feel hungrier as the minutes roll by. Your stomach conforms with your desire, partitioning space for an eagerly-awaited, returning guest.
Glasgow, Montana doesn't look like much to you. Some shops scattered around, a bar over here, a trailer park over there. Nothing really catches your eye, but none of that matters. Dad makes one more turn, and the object of your affection comes into view: a brick building with a red-arched roof, with a huge, golden burger decorating the front entrance.
Dad parks the car. You rush out and run towards the door. Forget the beauty of a new building. It's the food that counts!
There's no line to the register. The cashier notices you and attends to her station. She wears a black baseball cap and uniform with a yellow burger pin right above her nametag. If the tag tells the truth, her name is Sarah. "One Number Nine with fries on the side and a Coke please!" you shout, not holding back your excitement. "Lots of golden sauce!"
The cashier looks a bit stunned as you zip through the words. After a moment the teenager says, "Uh, will that be all, young man?"
You look back as your father enters through the glass doors. "What do you want, Dad?" you ask.
"I'll take the usual," he answers, smiling softly.
Remembering his order, you say, "And one Number 1 with cheese bites and a Sprite! Hold the onions!"
"Alrighty," the cashier says. "That'll be-"
"Hold on a second." Another person comes into view: an older man, somewhat balding up top. "Mister Alden?"
"Yes, that's me," your father says.
"Uh...no charge sir," the other man says, sweating a little. You guess that he's the manager. He whispers something incoherent in the teenager's ear. Whatever he said, it caused the young lady to become a lot more nervous. "Your meals should be ready very, very soon."
"No, I insist on paying fairly," Mr. Alden replies. "Take your time. There's no rush."
The bald man forces a smile and runs back to the kitchen. You find a table not too far away form the counter. After only a few minutes of waiting, your food comes out, brought to your table directly. You rush to take the burger out of the foil.
There it is, exactly as you wanted it: American ambrosia in a bun! The fries are the right balance of delicious, salty goodness, and the drink quenches your thirst! Your eyes light up and your cheeks redden with the pure ecstasy you feel biting into a Gol'Burger meal.
"Taste good, son?" Dad asks.
"It's perfect, Dad!" you answer, not even considering that you shouldn't be chewing with your mouth open.