Summer’s Ending at the McChevron

“Are you taking this photo for your blog?” “… Yeah.” “It’s okay.”

Atlantans may talk about our native Waffle House as the only place to be when it’s two in the morning and you want to make terrible decisions (food-related or other). And certainly WaHo reigns supreme when you want to hasten your demise with hashbrowns and the possibility of aging rockers trying to punch you. But it’s not the only option.

You could, for example, swing by my neck of the woods and go to what has been charmingly termed the McChevron. The McChevron (always with the definite article) is exactly what it says on the box: a McDonalds attached to a Chevron gas station. The Chevron is the classy kind of joint where the cashier stands behind plexiglass, and the McDonalds is a) open 24/7 and b) inexplicably sock hop themed.

Most McDonalds are McDonalds themed. They have the same booths, the same play structures, and the same smell of not-quite-beef tallow that they fry the fries in. This one–and it is the only one I have ever seen like this–has silhouettes of bobby soxers on the wall, glitter embedded in the formica tables, and paintings of things that make America great. Why? I have no idea. This restaurant pretty much totally caters to high schoolers skipping school during the day and college students to lazy and/or drunk to go to WaHo at night.

I found myself at the McChevron last night at around midnight. I had enjoyed another night of Atlanta culture in the form of Syllabus, which is basically Write Club Atlanta with mortarboards. I felt the need to negate any good I had done for myself, and as a vegetarian my options were somewhat limited to sweet things. (I refuse to eat McDonalds hashbrowns.)

Thankfully, the McChevron had my back, because McDonalds now sells s’mores pies, which someone has apparently written a review of on the internet. I love the internet. (Seriously, click that link. It’s nuts.)

For 98 cents I got all the transfat a girl could guilt-want in a kind-of-appetizing package. Seriously, the “chocolate” in the pie was sort of like slightly melted brown gummy candy. It was not the highest quality product available in that joint.

In terms of choices I have made at midnight, this was certainly not the worst. So I have to give the McChevron at least that much credit. But, with that late-night trip to the land of poor food choices/overpriced beer and gas, I think my summer is officially over. I leave in a few minutes to learn how to connect the wee frosh to the university wifi, and the rest of the week will pass in a blur of first-year move in, internship wrap-ups, and summer beer sales. Then: learning!

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