In order to blow off some unnecessary steam accumulated by the departure of certain individuals, I drove over to McDonald's around midnight to punish my body with chemicals induced into a burger (you've heard the stories, especially the involvement with pink slime, I'm certain). With a static radio and low traffic, the wind blew against me in adequate velocities as I proceeded down Harlem Avenue to the nearest famous and somewhat notorious fast food joint. As I pulled up to the drive-thru, a notion quickly fired, realizing that I wasn't that hungry at all - I ended up with a McChicken sandwich and some fries, and two receipts. I paid for my own meal, while also offering to pay for the person right behind me. Of course, there was mild bewilderment (with a flabbergasted face) from the drive-thru employee, but eventually he said that I was good to go, so I drove off, knowing that my rare good deed was committed.
Here's where it gets interesting. The day after, a couple of mates and me stopped by the local 7-11 to purchase a few rounds of Slurpees for our weak bodies to endure. Once we reached the front to pay for our drinks, a late-thirties, early-forties, gentleman offered to pay for our items. With great and sincere gratitude, he told us to stay in school and all that junk. Eventually I shared my McDonald's experience with them right after the Slurpee mission, and one mate, Sandy, said, "Dude, that's good karma right there!" This lead to an epiphany: karma does exist. I didn't believe in it before (such hope I once possessed), but this slight connection and chain of events proved my faith otherwise.
As a resident of Desolation Row, I leave you with this: do good for people, for they will eventually do good for you.
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