September 25th, 2003

Out of my way, asshole.

I hate hippies, as I like to imagine most people do. I've been at odds with them ever since they wouldn't let me get across campus without hearing their untalented, drug-hazed drum circles on the college green. Look buddy, I didn't just smoke an ounce, so what you hear as rhythmic harmony, I still hear as limp wrists slapping cheap bongos. And out of time, at that! Hippies are also inherently lazy for all the wrong reasons. Whereas I might not get something done because I was busy dominating video games (a worthy use of one's time), hippies lose hours dubbing the latest Grateful Dead bootleg for their friend who undoubtedly hates the Dead, but is too much of a pussy to say no to some dude who got them stoned for the first time. But on top of everything, hippies are perpetual hypocrites, working so hard to be so useless. And of course I have a story to prove my case!

Last week, after a busy night of pretending to pay attention to people at a bar, myself and fellow Crew member Brad decided to grab some food. Since it was 2 in the morning, the only thing open was the Carl's Jr. drive thru. For those on the East Coast, Carl's Jr., is just Hardees minus roast beef and sanitation. As we got closer to the drive thru, I had my order in my head, ready to go. Fuck the menu, get that guy on the intercom! But as we rolled around the corner, our journey to food was suddenly obstructed. By two God damn hippies. With no car. Waiting at the Drive Thru. Obviously their substance-slowed minds couldn’t wrap around the fact that in order for the intercom to know you’re at the drive thru, you must possess the weight of a CAR! At first, it was kinda funny watching these morons stare at an intercom, wondering why they weren’t being serviced. They’d walk behind the intercom, looking for a page button. They’d question the value of Carl’s promise of "fast food." And, just when we thought they’d give up, they made the last ditch attempt to jump up and down in unison in order to fool the system into thinking a 200 pound car just drove up. Okay, wear it out, hippies. You’re standing between me and food. There was a moment there when I wished I was the designated drive that night, just so I could run them over en route to my seasoned curlies.

And of course, I knew what would happen next. After spending three minutes exhausting every possibility they could think of, they realized there was a car behind them. So naturally, the alpha male made his way over to our car, leaned over so he could poke his rainbow wool cap and Weezer black-rimmed glasses in the window, and say, "uhh, you guys think you could help us out and trigger the drive thru?" To which we replied, "uhh, you think you could take your fuckin wool cap off, seeing as it’s FUCKING SUMMER IN CALIFORNIA!" He didn’t hear it though, because he was probably too busy contemplating how crazy it is that a tree grows up AND down. Probably.

Anyway, because we wanted to make this process go a little quicker, we drove forward and triggered the intercom. These assholes proceeded to order seven pounds of food and walked to the window. But now as we sat there, we noticed it was taking an awful long time for the intercom to get to us. Oh that’s right. He already thinks we ordered. Brad started to back up, but luckily my razor sharp insight checked the side mirror and yelled, "watch out for the van behind you." The van laid on the horn, Brad slammed the brakes, and the hippies kept walking.

So finally, ten minutes after pulling up, we ordered our food. Things were starting to look up, as the voice in the intercom assured us everything would be okay by reciting our order back to us. We pulled around the corner to the window, and there stood the hippes. Again. When they got to the window, they were STUNNED to find that "The Man" wouldn’t serve them! ‘How could you not serve us at a DRIVE THRU?!? How dare you, man!’ Of course, all this relaxed arguing only held us further from our sustenance. And we knew it was only a matter of time before we were needed again. Moments later, Rainbow Connection turned and headed toward our car again.

"Hey guys. So, apparently Corporate America doesn’t allow you to just walk up to a drive thru anymore. They have cameras everywhere, It’s like 1984 and shit. So it looks like we’re gonna need your help again. If you could just pay for our food and hand it over to us, that’d be solid."

And therein lies my point.

Holy hippie shit! How non-conformist of you! Corporate America? 1984?? Wow, you’re so against the grain dude. Especially with those completely original glasses made popular by a world-renowned rock band! Oh wait. How non-conformist is it to go eat at a corporate establishment, then bitch about the conformity of that establishment? You know what, go eat a fuckin homemade soy burger if you don’t like the way "corporate" America runs their shit. You’re contributing as much as we are, so don’t act all shocked when they ask that you have a fuckin car for the car drive thru. They don’t come over to your place with a bong and expect you to give them weed. If you’re so against corporate America and want to change it, stay the fuck home. Don’t simply complain about the rules of the "establishment." And while we’re on the subject, I don’t think it’s all that big of a demand that "fast" food restaurants who specialize in "convenience" ask that everyone going through the "drive" thru require a vehicle to help speed up that process. God damn hippie. Take off that wool hat and get some oxygen to your resin-soaked brain.

Instead of coming up to us and asking to pay for their munchies, these dolts could have saved their hypocritical nonsense and just asked us to help them out. I don't care about your views on Big Brother. I do care that you're standing between me and my two bacon cheeseburgers.

After Brad bought their bullshit meal, because he’s a little more humane than I am, the hippie told us we could keep the change, as if there was an option. Of course that money belongs to us! If anything, we got shortchanged for you wasting so many precious minutes of our lives. Hippies need to stop inserting themselves in my life and continue doing what they do best: smoke their weed, shut their mouth, and stay in their house.

If you’re a hippie and reading this, you’re a hypocrite, therefore negating your ability to write Guerrs and defend your position.

© 2003 The Decking Crew