On day two we achieved our goal: satiating our craving for In-n-Out burgers.
Medford, Oregon, is the closest place for us Pacific North Westerners to get our In-n-Out fix. It’s a 9 hour round trip away from Portland, Oregon, where we were staying for a few nights. With steeled resolve and butts (it was going to be a long ride), we popped into the car with snacks and iPods and a print-out map to guide the way.
Off we went, Hardcore History: Wrath of the Khans blaring from Ivan’s speakers.
Along the way we saw beautiful rolling hills, mountains, cattle, and sheep. It must have been birthing season for the sheep because I saw so many adorable babies! Since we were going 120 km/hr I didn’t get any good photos but I suppose seeing livestock grazing is fairly typical for PWN highway drives. Go out and see some for yourself! Also, take pictures of the baby sheep for me.
After a few hours, Ivan and Fred began counting down the highway exits. We started at around exit 300 from Portland, and needed to take exit 30 into Medford to get to the In-n-Out. Fred and Ivan made a game of counting down the exits, which felt about as exciting as singing “100 bottles of beer on the wall” in reverse.
270 exits later… we arrived.
Here we are!
Funnily enough, the last time I ate an In-n-Out burger was exactly one year ago, when I was in San Diego. Reading Break is turning into In-n-Out Break! I was curious to see how this non-Californian, relatively new location stacked up to the ones I’d been to in L.A. and San Diego. As it turns out: exactly the same and totally delicious.
We placed our orders. In-N-Out always has heartwarmingly-friendly and efficient service. Thank you, cashier who was not my cashier, for complimenting my hair!
“Order number 72! Order number 72!”
Ecstatic but slightly pained, Fred smiles for the camera, letting it “eat first” or whatever it is people are saying these days.
Cheeseburgers, fries, milk, and a 3×3 from the not-so-secret menu.
Stealing some of Fred’s coke.
I will always love milk.
Fred and Ivan ended up placing second orders for more animal-style fries and burgers. I pre-emptively ordered two cheeseburgers for myself, but they had only ordered one (admittedly larger) burger each. We ate until our only means of eating more would be to purge what was already in our stomachs… and since none of us had any proclivities for that sort of activity, we sighed contentedly and waddled back to the car.
And so we completed our Oregon trip mission. We drove 800 kilometres for a bunch of fucking burgers.
It was worth it.