Tuesday, October 19, 2010

America Runs On...

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.

They're everywhere.

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.


  1. I wish there were a Dunkins here. Like, a lot.

  2. I've heard that there's one in Oklahoma City. I think I might make the trek up there sometime just so that I can get my fix.