Road Trip part 3…. The Showdown
Princeton, Illinois, population 7500. This little town, approximately 366 miles from Omaha, which boasts Ace Hardware as its major employer, was also the home to a quaint little McDonald’s. Only 2 hours outside of Chicago, we were nearing the Promised Land with plenty of time to spare. With the sun just barely peeking up over the horizon, and realizing since we had left early, we would have the entire day to explore Chicago, we decided to stop in Princeton’s McDonald’s for some breakfast. None of us were aware of the fateful events that were just minutes from unfolding that would change the course of this trip.
We had been on the road for quite some time, and none of us was in a real hurry. We took turns ordering, using the facilities, washing up and waiting for our numbers to be called. We were seated at one table, with the exception of Brad Dilly, who was at the counter waiting for his food. An idea was instantly hatched. I don’t know who thought of it, but Bart would carry it out. I wouldn’t say that most of us were in the best shape of our lives, but we were 16, and all healthy eaters. Dilly, the most portly of the group, and probably the most out-of-shape, didn’t look like he had missed many meals.
The plan was simple enough, Dilly would sit down and start to eat, and Bart would keep track of time. From first bite to last bite, we were going to time how long it took Dilly to eat a McMuffin. Could it be done in 5 bites or less, or perhaps in 1 minute or less? We were about to find out. Dilly brought his food around to the other side of the table, and we could barely contain ourselves. I jammed as much of my sausage McMuffin into my mouth as I could to avoid laughing. The wrapper was off, and we all looked at Bart, who was looking down at the second hand of his watch. Still unaware of what was happening, Dilly took the first bite. Bart broke down into hysterical laughter, and we all followed. “What?” Dilly asked, looking at all of us with a confused expression on his face. “Nothing,” Bart replied, now staring at his watch, and holding it with the other hand like a stopwatch. “FUCK YOU GUYS!!!” Dilly yelled, as he had figured out what was going on.
What happened in the next few seconds is the subject of Folklore, as most of us were laughing and finishing our own food. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw McMuffin hurtling through the air and the next thing we knew, Dilly and Bart were going at it. The fight was on! Food was all over the floor, expletives were shouted, and fists were flying. It seems as though the whole town of Princeton was staring at us in shock, wondering what had happened to disrupt their sleepy little town and their peaceful lives. Everyone knows that good friends don’t break up a fight; they egg it on until everyone has had enough, and this case would be no exception. As we laughed and cheered and food kept flying, Bart had decided it was time to step outside to cool down. Dilly wasn’t done. He bolted out the door after Bart, and with the precision of a guided missile, launched a whole McMuffin, which hit Bart square in the back. Bart was furious, “What the Hell, Dilly?!?!”
Inside the restaurant, concerned patrons started to make their way over to where the maelstrom had occurred. I was still in complete shock, as this had happened in the course of merely 30 to 60 seconds. An older gentleman came over and said angrily, “You guys need to pick this up,” to which Dilly replied, “who made you the fucking manager?” We hurriedly snatched up the rest of our food and headed outside to see what was going on. At this time, everyone had had enough, and the fight was broken up. You could still see the adrenaline going in both Bart and Dilly, and if you looked close enough, you could see a greasy outline of where a sausage patty had impacted squarely in the middle of Bart’s back.
We hopped in our cars again, but not before Todd snapped some pictures of the attempted murder weapon, a lone sausage patty, which we left in the parking lot of that Princeton, Illinois McDonald’s.
We were now only 2 hours from Chicago as we headed back out on the Interstate. We estimated that we would hit the outskirts of town in just short of an hour and a half, which would get us to downtown Chicago between 9 or 10 in the morning. We would have a full day to visit the city……..…or would we?
Stay tuned for Part 4………Separated