<http://schema.org/articleBody>
"My hometown is where Wendy&amp;amp;#8217;s was born and White Castle is headquartered, but I don&amp;amp;#8217;t really enjoy fast food. The same can&amp;amp;#8217;t be said of my dad who, beyond living in Columbus for almost 40 years, grew up in Boston, where there&amp;amp;#8217;s a Dunkin&amp;amp;#8217; Donuts on every corner. My mom the health nut will hate this, but some of the fondest memories and most significant anecdotes of my dad revolve around fast food: buying it, eating it, and hiding it from her. Here are a few. Boston Market: My friend Mike was choking. Like, actually: no air, no sound, only terror on his reddening face. My dad swooped in, executed a remarkably poised Heimlich maneuver, and dislodged the chicken bone. &amp;amp;#8220;You saved my life!&amp;amp;#8221; gasped Mike. &amp;amp;#8220;Who wants more mac &amp;amp;#8216;n cheese?&amp;amp;#8221; asked Dad. McDonald&amp;amp;#8217;s: One friend&amp;amp;#8217;s dad forbade us from eating or drinking in the car for fear we&amp;amp;#8217;d ruin the leather upholstery in his BMW. In my dad&amp;amp;#8217;s Civic, on the other hand, consumption was encouraged and spills were casually mopped with the contents of his glove box overflowing with a decade&amp;amp;#8217;s worth of hoarded drive-through napkins. Jolly Pirate Donut: On the way to work, my dad was accosted leaving this janky local donut shop. &amp;amp;#8220;Hey mister, want a date?&amp;amp;#8221; she offered. His smile, I imagine, was broad and genuine beneath his friendly mustache. &amp;amp;#8220;At 8:00 in the morning? No, thanks!&amp;amp;#8221; He was polite to everyone, even to parking-lot prostitutes. Tim Hortons: The drive-through attendant reached our bagels and Iced Capps out the window. &amp;amp;#8220;Hi there, Linda! Good to see you.&amp;amp;#8221; Despite meeting thousands of patients and parents in over 30 years of pediatric dentistry&amp;amp;#8212;and seeing them twice a year, at most&amp;amp;#8212;my dad had an uncanny ability to remember their names, along with obscure details about them. &amp;amp;#8220;How was Brendon&amp;amp;#8217;s baseball tournament in Omaha?&amp;amp;#8221; Steak &amp;amp;#8216;n Shake: My tennis team&amp;amp;#8217;s bus broke down an hour from home. My dad hauled his way to the rescue, squeezed the entire team (coach included) into our minivan, and treated everyone to milkshakes. United Dairy Farmers: My suburb boasts three excellent ice cream shops. UDF, an obscure Midwestern pharmacy/ice cream store (which I&amp;amp;#8217;m not sure is even a thing elsewhere) is not one of them. Still, Dad and I were always eager to make the trip for one&amp;amp;#8212;and only one&amp;amp;#8212;kind of ice cream, cherry cordial. Empirically, cherry cordial is an average ice cream at best, but Dad and I absolutely housed the stuff. One time I ordered a different flavor from UDF and promptly threw it up. Krispy Kreme: Once my dad bought me a box of Krispy Kreme donuts, and my mom told him never again. After that, he started smuggling them into the house. Thing is, I never asked for them. I never complained either. Orange Julius: My parents have an ongoing inside joke that my dad is having an affair with &amp;amp;#8220;the lady at the Orange Julius stand.&amp;amp;#8221; I don&amp;amp;#8217;t understand this joke and don&amp;amp;#8217;t want to. Wendy&amp;amp;#8217;s: When my dance rehearsals extended far beyond a reasonable bedtime for a 12-year-old, my dad would doze in the car until I finished. Then he&amp;amp;#8217;d take me for a Frosty and fries and drive in silence as I slept instead of doing my homework. Happy Father&amp;amp;#8217;s Day, Dad. Sorry, Mom. What are your favorite memories of your dad? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/sex-love-life/blogs/smitten/2013/06/a-fathers-day-fast-food-tribut>