Standoff at the Sonic

When Correy and I were driving back from New Mexico (as discussed in a prior post), we stopped for some refreshments at the Sonic in Gallup, NM, which is an outpost on the edge of civilization. We got some tater tots each, and each ordered a soda with one of the yummy flavors for which Sonic is famous. If I recall correctly, I got a Dr. Pepper with Vanilla, and Correy ordered a Coke with the same Vanilla. So this little thing, couldn't have been older than sixteen (going on 12), brought out our food and drinks. Afterwards, she just kind of stood there for what seemed like five minutes and stared at us blankly, like she wanted a tip of something. Uh, thank you, thank you. Only problem is, they don't get tips there ever; it is kind of against the rules (and it is fast food after all). I only mention this because it bought us time to sip our drinks as we alternated between staring at her staring at us and giving each other WTF looks.

Correy said to me, "Dude, I don't think there is any flavor in here," referring to his Coke. It was not the happy hour when all flavor is free, so we had actually paid for it. As the waitress girl started walking away, Correy hollered at her. "Hey I don't taste any flavor in here." Instead of the customer-is-always-right apology, she just gave him the stink eye, sighed, and then... asked to see the receipt!!! I had already crumbled it up and tossed it in the back of the car. As she stood tapping her foot (literally), we rifled through the backseat crap and found it. Still, the waitress chick asked, "Are you sure there is no flavor, I am sure they put it in." Seriously? Fiiiinnaallllly, she stomped off to have another soda made, this time with vanilla.

Besides this girl's penny pinching craziness, the funniest part of this escapade is that three sips after the girl left to go inside, Correy says to me: "Umm, I totally taste the vanilla flavor now, must have not been mixed good." Of course we bust up laughing, and then zip our lips with shit-eating grins the second the newly made drink is delivered. And oh did they put more vanilla than soda in the new soda (along with some spit probably).

Satisfied, we jetted off in the Jetta, Correy drinking his original Vanilla Coke and tossing the vanilla spit-laden one in the trash as we drove out into the desert.