I had convinced my boss to split the cost a hotel room in Astoria because I had a 7am pickup there the next morning, and I didn’t want to have to leave Portland at five for an all day tour and return back to Portland the same day. It was close to sunset when I arrived in Astoria so I decided to treat myself to a waterfront dining experience. I’d already eaten out several days that week so I decided on a salad to go with my glass of wine. While it was delicious, it was one of those meals that leaves you starving even as you walk out the door, so I continued down the quiet street determining what I needed to satiate myself.

 

I could see the golden arches in the distance and thought, well, if I’m going to have a second dinner, at least it will be cheap. I have to confess, it is not the first time I have eaten at this McDonalds. Like many Americans, I am suckered by the ability to pay $2 for whatever the daily double is. In this case, it was two cheeseburgers. Conscious of the growing amount it was costing me to satiate myself that evening, I declined the meal deal with the fires and drink.

 

After getting my food, I sat at one of the elevated tables and glanced over to see a flat screen TV playing a Samuel L. Jackson film. In front of the screen was a couch, and I thought it funny that McDonald’s had not only provided a living room environment but was also showing R rated movies.

 

I plopped down on the couch to work on my second cheeseburger when I heard a banging on the outside window. A black man outside was gesticulating wildly at the screen and began to head around towards the door. I feared a quick end to my living room experience. He plopped down next to me and declared, “this is my favorite movie”, and then he yelled over towards the front counter, “baby, they’re playing my favorite movie!”

 

It turns out his wife had been inside ordering, and when she was finished she came and asked, “they’re playing Django?” He said yes. He told me how they were driving up from California and looking for a place to spend the night but, despite my initial fears, never once asked me for money.

 

We talked about travel and run ins with the law during the commercials, and I ended up going back to the counter twice. Once to order some fries and another to order a Mcflurry to dip them in. So there we were, complete strangers watching a movie together in the “living room” of a McDonald’s in Astoria. As so often happens in travel, the real treats are rarely the ones you plan.