Happy Meals?

Last evening, while traveling with a grandson, we stopped at a McDonald's.  Of course, he wanted a Happy Meal....you know, one of those package deals where you get a toy in addition to the burger and fries?  It got me to thinking about a couple of times when I have gotten something in addition to my burger and fries.


In the position I held before I retired, I did a fair amount of traveling around a three county area.  One day I had an early afternoon appointment a little over an hour away from my office.  I arrived in the town enough ahead of the appointment to grab a quick lunch at the McDonald's.  


I had no sooner settled in and begun eating when a gentleman dressed in slacks and a sport coat sat down at the table adjacent to mine.  The table was positioned close enough that he could easily engage me in conversation.  I immediately thought that in spite of his natty appearance, there was something a bit odd going on with him.  His attempt at conversation confirmed my suspicions.  He mentioned that he lived in a nearby hotel, and that he had an allotment he could spend each day on food.  He detailed exactly what he had had to eat for his recent meals and the cost....to the penny...of each.  That was the sum total of the conversation.


When I arrived at my appointment, which was with a man well-connected in that community, I mentioned the incident.  He immediately knew to whom I had been talking.  He explained that the man was a brilliant former college professor who had suffered an emotional breakdown.  He was recently discharged from a psychiatric facility and, having nowhere to go, was placed in a hotel within walking distance of restaurants.


Some years earlier, my husband and I were in Seattle at a conference.  We had a couple hours free between meetings and decided to drive around and get a feel for the city.  We stopped at a McDonald's for a quick supper.  As we ate, I noticed a man making his way around the restaurant and stopping to talk at every table.  He was getting the brush-off from most of the patrons.  I commented to my husband, something like, "Oh, dear....that man is pestering customers.  He is probably mentally ill."


Eventually he worked his way to our table, paused, and with the sweetest smile, said to my husband, "Sir, may I compliment you on your taste in women?"  My husband smiled and thanked him.  I gave him an appreciative grin.  As he walked away, my husband muttered in a chiding tone, but with a smirk, "And you said he was mentally ill."


So, I got something in addition to the burger and fries on those occasions.  I'm not sure it could be called a "Happy Meal."  Maybe, it was more like a "Bittersweet Meal."  It included a shake of sadness and a dash of humor, and it was spread with a layer of the reality that we are often in close proximity to hurting people.