Arches. Lucas grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, ushering me inside.
Branding at its finest. Even clear across the Atlantic Ocean, McDonald’s still looked and smelled like McDonald’s. I reveled in its familiarity. But there were some differences; the menu had many of the standard American favorites, accompanied with some not-so-American choices. The McLobster for one. That did not sound appetizing at all. Seafood was gross even in the finest of restaurants. No way would I order it at a McDonald’s. Ewww!
“What are you having?” Lucas asked, surveying the menu overhead.
My usual came to mind. “McNugget Happy Meal with a Coke.”
He turned his head in my direction, cocking that eyebrow again. “A Happy Meal? Aren’t you a little old for those?”
“Says the guy with a Mr. Waddles.”
He pointed again. “See, this is why Mr. Waddles stays in the closet.”
I pouted. “Poor Mr. Waddles, he gets no respect.”
Lucas shook his head. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Buon pomeriggio,” the cashier greeted us. “What will you have?”
Lucas looked to me and nodded, like a true gentleman, allowing me to order first. “Chicken McNugget Happy Meal with a Coke, per favore .” Yeah, look at me whipping out the Italian pleasantries like a native. My cool factor just went up ten meters.
The cashier typed in my order and asked, “Is the toy for a boy or girl?”
Ah, the sole reason I always ordered Happy Meals. The toy. Growing up, I had quite the collection of Happy Meal toys, much to my mother’s and Nonna’s chagrin. But, really, they only had themselves to blame; they were the ones buying them for me.
I glanced around, looking for the toy display; I had to make a well-informed decision. Behind me, it seemed my choices were Transformers or Littlest Pet Shop. “Boy,” I answered. Definitely the Transformer; those things were so cool.
“And you, signore ?”
The cashier’s attention shifted to Lucas, as did mine. But he wasn’t looking at her; he was looking at me. I couldn’t read the expression in his wide eyes, but they were dazzling nonetheless.
“Lucas, she’s ready for your order.” I motioned to the lady behind the counter.
Shrugging, he snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in. “Oh, right. Umm”—he stared at the menu—“Big Mac, fries, and a Coke.”
“ Grazi ,” she said.
I reached for my bag, but Lucas put his arm on mine and shook his head. “Whoa there, Linebacker. I asked you to lunch, remember?”
I pulled my lips in a fraction of an inch and nodded. “So that’s what it’s going to be, then? Linebacker?”
Lucas paid the cashier and grabbed the tray when our order was ready. Carrying it to an empty booth near the entrance, we sat down by a window. “It got you to say yes.” He winked.
“Is this a real date, then?” It had been years since I’d been on a date. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to date . We’d had an easy camaraderie all day long; I feared putting a formal label on it would mess that up.
He stopped fiddling with the items on the tray and looked at me, his eyes smoldering. “Do you want it to be?”
When he unleashed the full force of his eyes, God help the person in their line of sight. I gaped like a fish out of water. “Uh…what do you want it to be?”
“A real date.” He nodded and went back to the tray. Picking up my Happy Meal box, he held it between his fingers before passing it over. “Cute.”
Reaching across the table, I lifted the yellow sports car–shaped box from his hand. “Yeah, it is cute.” But compared to Lucas’s boyish charm, there was no comparison. A thrill of excitement sent tingles through my body…a real date.
Smiling, I pulled apart Bumblebee’s flaps and got a whiff of homey-greasy-American-goodness. Here I was, my first day in Italy, sitting in a McDonald’s, on a date. I barely recognized myself. And for once, it felt nice not to be me.
I took a bite of my chicken nugget. I hadn’t been hungry
Branding at its finest. Even clear across the Atlantic Ocean, McDonald’s still looked and smelled like McDonald’s. I reveled in its familiarity. But there were some differences; the menu had many of the standard American favorites, accompanied with some not-so-American choices. The McLobster for one. That did not sound appetizing at all. Seafood was gross even in the finest of restaurants. No way would I order it at a McDonald’s. Ewww!
“What are you having?” Lucas asked, surveying the menu overhead.
My usual came to mind. “McNugget Happy Meal with a Coke.”
He turned his head in my direction, cocking that eyebrow again. “A Happy Meal? Aren’t you a little old for those?”
“Says the guy with a Mr. Waddles.”
He pointed again. “See, this is why Mr. Waddles stays in the closet.”
I pouted. “Poor Mr. Waddles, he gets no respect.”
Lucas shook his head. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Buon pomeriggio,” the cashier greeted us. “What will you have?”
Lucas looked to me and nodded, like a true gentleman, allowing me to order first. “Chicken McNugget Happy Meal with a Coke, per favore .” Yeah, look at me whipping out the Italian pleasantries like a native. My cool factor just went up ten meters.
The cashier typed in my order and asked, “Is the toy for a boy or girl?”
Ah, the sole reason I always ordered Happy Meals. The toy. Growing up, I had quite the collection of Happy Meal toys, much to my mother’s and Nonna’s chagrin. But, really, they only had themselves to blame; they were the ones buying them for me.
I glanced around, looking for the toy display; I had to make a well-informed decision. Behind me, it seemed my choices were Transformers or Littlest Pet Shop. “Boy,” I answered. Definitely the Transformer; those things were so cool.
“And you, signore ?”
The cashier’s attention shifted to Lucas, as did mine. But he wasn’t looking at her; he was looking at me. I couldn’t read the expression in his wide eyes, but they were dazzling nonetheless.
“Lucas, she’s ready for your order.” I motioned to the lady behind the counter.
Shrugging, he snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in. “Oh, right. Umm”—he stared at the menu—“Big Mac, fries, and a Coke.”
“ Grazi ,” she said.
I reached for my bag, but Lucas put his arm on mine and shook his head. “Whoa there, Linebacker. I asked you to lunch, remember?”
I pulled my lips in a fraction of an inch and nodded. “So that’s what it’s going to be, then? Linebacker?”
Lucas paid the cashier and grabbed the tray when our order was ready. Carrying it to an empty booth near the entrance, we sat down by a window. “It got you to say yes.” He winked.
“Is this a real date, then?” It had been years since I’d been on a date. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to date . We’d had an easy camaraderie all day long; I feared putting a formal label on it would mess that up.
He stopped fiddling with the items on the tray and looked at me, his eyes smoldering. “Do you want it to be?”
When he unleashed the full force of his eyes, God help the person in their line of sight. I gaped like a fish out of water. “Uh…what do you want it to be?”
“A real date.” He nodded and went back to the tray. Picking up my Happy Meal box, he held it between his fingers before passing it over. “Cute.”
Reaching across the table, I lifted the yellow sports car–shaped box from his hand. “Yeah, it is cute.” But compared to Lucas’s boyish charm, there was no comparison. A thrill of excitement sent tingles through my body…a real date.
Smiling, I pulled apart Bumblebee’s flaps and got a whiff of homey-greasy-American-goodness. Here I was, my first day in Italy, sitting in a McDonald’s, on a date. I barely recognized myself. And for once, it felt nice not to be me.
I took a bite of my chicken nugget. I hadn’t been hungry
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