Robert Trudell

Yuma is more than place to leave the baby’s dirty diaper.

As I danced around Home Depot dizzy with hunger and harboring that “got to go” urge, I rushed my P-Trap purchase and headed to Carl’s Jr.

Carl’s Jr. Yelp Reviews, Carl’s Jr. Google Reviews

Just around the corner from the Depot on 16th Street, the Restaurant bustled with San Diego Interstate 8 Independence Day traffic.  I carefully and quickly opened the outdoor aluminum door handle using my fingernails to avoid burning my hand on the building placed under the scorching summer sun load.  I scurried into the restroom to discover the 2 stalls and individual urinal taken.  A man was waiting his turn while a father helped his young son wash his hands in the sink.

I did a 180  turn to exit as another father and son entered the facility.  I chose to place my Hawaiian Teriyaki Burger order and quell my other urge.  Charging the $2.75 sandwich on my Discover Card, I salivated imagining biting into the pineapple, teriyaki sauce and thick beef patty.

Handed a #84 plastic triangle, the Order Girl instructed me to place it on my table and wait for the meal’s delivery.  I sat facing the bathrooms anticipating an opening.  It seemed as if every 15 to 30 seconds another person would rush in from outside and head into the packed Water Closet.  Then, disturbingly, a lady exited the Women’s Room precariously holding her baby.  She told her friend there were no changing tables and she’d need to change the baby’s diaper on the “seat” as she headed toward a nearby restaurant seat.

I avoided looking in her direction, not wanting to see the dirty diaper details.  I started wondering though; I wondered if she meant her car’s seat or possibly the toilet seat and hopefully wished she didn’t mean my neighboring seat.  I fearfully breathed through my nose, not wanting to inhale unfiltered feces though my mouth; I dreadfully imagined the unpleasant whiffs that would waft my way.  Thankfully, no unsavory aromas emitted.

My burger appeared before any let up of toilet traffic.  I removed the foil colored outer wrapper to find another paper wrapper snugly holding the burger together.  While the buns stuck out of each end of the paper I could clearly see 1 of my generous burger bites would land my teeth in paper territory.  I removed the wrapper confident I could hold it together with my hands.  I have 2 strict rules when eating a burger.  1) Never but the burger down.  2)  Eat faster than gravity.

My first bite shifted the sandwich like the recent 7.2 magnitude Sierra El Mayor earthquake shifted our town 2 feet South.  Out of the bottom of the bun, 2.5 inches of sprung loaded salad dressing covered lettuce slapped the palm of my hand.  Furious to find the crisp lettuce on the bottom bun side, I analyzed the effects of inverting my grip.  There is something I love about the texture of crisp watery lettuce hitting the roof of my mouth.  Seeing the charbroiled Dole pineapple ring and teriyaki sauce on the top bun side encouraged me to leave the top side on top.  I felt I couldn’t mix and enjoy their flavors with the burger while biting them from the bottom.

I opened the bottom of the bun to reposition the lettuce under the bread. The self inflating leaves exploded like a life raft popping open off of a sinking ship.  This ship of a sandwich started falling apart faster than the Titanic.  Suddenly I had an 8-inch circular lettuce saucer spreading more dressing on my hands, a burger heading one-way and a pineapple ring heading the other.  Fed up with the mess, I attacked the outer lettuce perimeter and in a high speed spinning motion rotated and consumed the pineapple & burger at the rate of 9.8 meters/second².

With sticky sauce covered hands I elbowed the restroom door open.  I wanted to rinse my hands off before handling my business, but chose to enter the stall before another excreting train of men began.  Finally relieved of all urges, I washed up and exited the facility.

A restaurant patron held the inner door open as I left Carl’s Jr and wished, “I hope you enjoyed the visit!”.  An employee held the outer outside door open, probably to save the entering patrons from burning their hands.

I noticed the line of cars at the Arco gas station were I figured many of the steady stream of restroom customers came.

The place was busy enough to create a backed up line of cars onto the 16th Street & I-8 bridge.

As I exited on Redondo Drive heading North it looked like I-8 construction backed the freeway up for miles into California and extending to Telegraph Pass.

Driving off, I pondered the reason lettuce needs to be on top of the burger.  I figured the 2 thumbs aren’t able to stabilize the slippery saucy leaves as well 8 fingers.

Next time I order my Teriyaki burger with no cheese, I’ll also instruct Carl’s Jr. to “Put my lettuce on top!”

Well, on 10/15/2010  there was a next time. I’m happy to admit I manned-up and ordered my lettuce on top. The cashier lady (Dawn H) seemed a little confused but graciously rang up my “Special Request” at no charge $0.00.

I not only did I enjoyed the burger more, I felt fulfilled in setting out to do as promised.

Tags: Bathroom, burger, California, Carl's Jr, cashier, Dawn, Dawn H, dirty diaper, Earthquake, feces, furious, Home Depot, lettuce, Man Up, Manned up, men's room, No Charge, Phoenix, pineapple, Pit Stop, restroom, San Diego, sandwich, self inflating life raft, Sierra El Mayor, Special Request, Telegraph Pass, teriyaki, Titanic, waft, Water Closet, whiffs, whift, women's room, Yuma

This entry was posted on Saturday, July 10th, 2010 at 6:59 pm and is filed under Arizona, Baby Changing Station, Bathroom, Carl's Jr, Home Depot, Yuma. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.