I wonder what it would be like to do a Drive-Thru getaway. I’m not talking about living a Boyz-in-the-Hood fantasy and running from an inner-city gang fight; I’m talking about running away from a Drive-Thru window after you placed your order.

I considered doing this the other day after I agreed to order a raspberry milkshake at Heber City’s renowned Dairy Keen. (Not a Blizzard from another burger joint with an oddly similar name.) I originally wanted a raspberry “yogurt”-shake—but when a squeaky adolescent voice told me they no longer offered frozen yogurt, I found myself in a difficult situation: do I order a normal milkshake, even though I don’t want one? Normal people would have opted for a regular milkshake (or would have just ordered it in the first place) but I’m not normal; I’m a girl. And as a girl, I worry about fat and calories and shoes and celebrity gossip and fitting into my jeans.

With no appetizing alternative on the menu, and three other cars idling impatiently in line behind me, I reluctantly agreed to a regular raspberry milkshake. But within seconds of that decision, I felt a pit land in my second as guilt set in: an ice cream milkshake at 2:00 p.m. on a meaningless Thursday wasn’t a good enough excuse for indulgence.

Although such reasoning is illogical and out-right silly to many, especially 15-32 males with high metabolisms, it wasn’t as silly as how I was trying to plan my getaway from the drive-thru line so I wouldn’t have to pay for 800 calories I don’t need.

But the real crime I was committing was thinking frozen yogurt is any better/healthier than the real thing.
Frozen yogurt has been a mystery to many since its inception in the early 90s. It was created to help fat people “think” they are choosing a healthy substitution when they are still feeding their bodies with loads of sugar and taking step closer to Type 2 diabetes. Although this misperception was caught on early by Dr. Atkins and comedy screenwriters (see Seinfeld episode #71 titled “The Non-Fat Yogurt”), the frozen dessert still fools many.

Anyway, I didn’t run. I paid the four bucks for something I took two bites of and then dumped it on the side of the road like a gangsta would dump a dead body. I quickly sped away without ever looking back.