McDonalds Party

We went to our first McDonalds party on Saturday. It was for our little nephew. Boy o boy. Tough times, tough times. It was very different to what I had expected.

I was looking forward to the kids all siting quietly around a table, while I sat somewhere a little way away, in peace and quiet, enjoying a nice, large McValue Meal of some kind, perhaps flicking through the paper or something.

No joy. The hottest September day in the history of the world. About thirty people bundled into a solarium-like 'party room' upstairs. Tears. Screaming. Sweating. And that was just from me.

The kids all nicked off, leaving a mountain of untouched fries and nuggets. I sat watching, eagle-eyed, waiting for the other adults to look away so I could grab some of those sweet left overs without being seen, but to no avail. I nearly let shed a tear, when later I saw it all being shovelled off into the garbage.

Later, another nephew, just a toddler, escaped and ran out of the 'restaurant', and between cars in the drive- thru bit. A yell from the mother. Panic from others. In the blink of an eye while everyone else stood helpless and dumb, one man, one hungry but heroic man, in a flash was outside, and between the cars, protecting the child. With one deft movement he had stopped the traffic, and had the helpless whelp under one brave arm. He had saved his life, no question about it.

As this heroic man is also amazingly humble, he shall remained unnamed.