When it's 4:08 p.m., and you're just on the way home, and you're dying for something sugary or a hot sandwich or some caffeine, where do you go? What chain can you find on every corner? Where can you get a quick, completely unhealthy meal for under $5 without getting out of the car?
My own beacon of hope was pink and orange and every 5 miles:
Unfortunately, there was one thing I never anticipated in moving to Oklahoma: the loss of my comfort chain. The first hint at this tragedy was getting off of the airplane to visit the school. While waiting for my uncle, I instinctively went walking through the airport to search for something to make my life a little less jet-lagged.
I attributed the lack of Dunkies to the extreme podunkness of the Tulsa airport. Which is partially responsible. But also responsible is this:
See that one little orange dot in Oklahoma? That's the only Dunkies in the state. And it's nowhere near my campus.
Compare that to this:
This is the map of distribution of the Oklahoma version of Dunkin Donuts. The place everyone goes at happy hour. The original drive-in.
This, my friend, is a map of Sonics.
While Sonics now have a special place in my heart, and I even have reverse withdrawal for them when I go home (a little bit), I do still occasionally pine for rich hot chocolate and double chocolate $0.89 donuts.
It's not a bad thing really. It's not anything to complain about. But it's something I warn you about now, so that you don't go through the heartbreak I had to.
Call me a saint, I know.
A saint who goes straight for the Providence airport Dunkies when she gets off the plane at Christmas.