Whatadrivethru: Where The Other Line Always Moves Faster.


There is a force in San Antonio that is often discussed but rarely experienced. I’m talking, of course, about the weather 1.).

It is hot here; that should not come as a surprise to you. But what is a surprise is how little time people spend outside in San Antonio. It’s so hot that humans here do not venture into the open air, save for the fleeting moments spent between air conditioned house and air conditioned car. If you are fortunate enough, your car sits in a temperature-controlled garage all night, and you park it in an indoor garage at work in the morning, and the only hours spent outside are the spartan steps between your driver’s side door and the entrance to the Central Market, where valets will park your car while you buy foccacia bread.

Locals spend so little time outside that, if not for regular news reports, you’d never know how obese this city’s population really is.

One 2009 analysis named San Antonio the third fattest city in America 2.). And yet it’s easier to spot albinos in this town than it is to find a fat guy.

When I first arrived in San Antonio, I asked if there were any neighborhoods where residents could walk around, grab a bite to eat and enjoy a local park. I was promptly told that if those were my priorities, I should consider moving to Europe instead.

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In the days since, I’ve learned that there’s one thing – other than air conditioning – that San Antonians are especially passionate about: finding ways to never leave their cars.

I have never seen a town more obsessed with drive-thru restaurants, be it for coffee, donuts, hamburgers or tacos 3.). In this town, there are thousands of paths to rejecting Jenny Craig as your personal savior, and almost all of them start with the phrase, “Hi, I’d like a number two combo meal, please.”

But – and this is strange for a town as obese as San Antonio – mainstream fast food isn’t the source of the problem here. There are not that many McDonald’ses or Burger Kings or Taco Bells in this town.

The problem here is Whataburger.

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Think of Whataburger as the In-N-Out of Texas. It has a signature look: each restaurant has this sloping, blue and orange striped roof. It has a signature feel: though each burger is ordered at the counter, employees hand deliver the food to your table. It even has a signature market: Whataburger is only available in a handful of states across the south.

But unlike In-N-Out, no one’s confusing the Whataburger crowd for gourmands.

The chain serves big burgers, the patty drooping out over the buns, and salty, skinny fries. And the drinks – my God, the small drink at Whataburger is as large as a 7-11 Big Gulp. It’s a serving size that the FDA clearly should’ve gotten wind of by now; apparently, those winds were lost somewhere over Beaumont.

Let me put it this way: if Morgan Spurlock had tried to eat thirty days of Whataburger, he’d have died within a week.

It seems obvious, then, that a burger this fattening in a city this fat can only be enjoyed one way: within the comforts of one’s air conditioned car.

Which is where the double lane Whataburger drive-thru comes in.

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There is such a drive-thru in the northwest corner of San Antonio, off Fredericksburg Road. The set up is as such: there is a central kitchen contained within one main building, and on either side, there is a drive-thru lane. In front of the restaurant, there is a window for walk-up orders, but this seems more for show. It’s taken about as seriously as the NFL preseason.

It’s worth noting: there is no inside to the restaurant. You cannot walk in. You cannot sit down. You cannot find yourself in the presence of free air conditioning. Under these circumstances, you are actually forced to stay in your vehicle. This seems to please the good people of San Antonio tremendously.

It is here that I should say that San Antonians are an unusual breed: they tend to take things at a slower pace. They walk slower. They talk slower. They’re even willing to wait a little longer for convenience.

In this case, make that extra convenience, because the sensation of being served a beefy ball of grease – with pickles on the side – isn’t enough, apparently. San Antonians will actually wait longer to enjoy the convenience of not reaching across their vehicle to grab their freshly purchased, previously-frozen slab of meat.

I know this because on the day I first visited this Whataburger – and on the subsequent days that I have returned to survey the store – one drive-thru line has always been busy, and one line has always been empty. In many cases, the one line may have upwards of six vehicles waiting for food, while the other is completely deserted.

Perhaps I should explain why.

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The full line is always to the right of the store. It is a traditional drive-thru set up; you yell your order into a speaker box, you pull around to the window, and there, directly next to the driver’s side window, you exchange cash for burger. There is no effort or lunging involved.

The empty line is always to the left of the store. It is identical to the right-side line, except for one alteration: the store’s window aligns – almost tragically so – with the passenger side’s window.

Curious, I tested out the left-side line last week at Whataburger. I ordered the smallest thing on the menu – the unsurprisingly named Whataburger, with fries and a drink. I pulled around to their window. I opened my passenger side’s window. And then I waited.

A young man inside the store opened his window, and as such, the pirouette began. He placed his bottom on the window’s sill. He scooted himself toward my vehicle, like a tyke creeping toward the high dive’s edge. And then, with a single, practiced thrust, he suddenly burst headlong into my car, his entire upper body squeezed through my window and nearly onto my upholstery, his legs still dangling inside his restaurant.

“That’ll be $6.15,” he told me.

I looked at his face. To say that he was coated in sweat is an understatement; he was layered in it, looking as greasy as the burger I was about to eat.

I handed him my cash, and – just as violently as he’d entered – he thrust himself back into the store. Then, once more, he scooted to the sill and rocketed almost fully back into my car.

“Here’s your burger, man,” and he thrust out.

And there I was, stuck for a moment, my hand not wanting to shift the car into gear. I was not sure how the man had managed to thrust himself into my car with such dexterity, or why it had happened at such alarming speed.

And then I closed my windows and ensconced myself in the familiar chill of my car’s air conditioning, and in that moment, as I pulled out of the drive-thru and looked back at the other lane, some six cars waiting to be served, I found peace.

And in the moments after, as I dug into my no. 1 Whatameal combo, I found something else:

Nausea.

I think I liked peace better.

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1.) In this sense, the weather in San Antonio is a lot like Washington Nationals baseball or openness in government. >return to post

2.) The question you’re asking is, “Even fatter than Houston?” Yes, I am sorry to report, they’re even fatter than Houston. >return to post

3.) Both of the breakfast and regular persuasion. >return to post

How Much Space Do Golf Courses Take Up in America?

I was watching some George Carlin clips on YouTube today when I came across one in which Carlin proposes an unusual idea: why don’t we claim — via eminent domain — all of the land used for golf courses in America and give it to the homeless?

In his act, Carlin says that American golf courses use up a total area larger than two Rhode Islands plus Delaware. That seemed too absurd to not investigate.

According to the Golf Course Superintendents of America, there are 2,244,512 acres of golf courses in the U.S. That’s the equivalent of 3,507 square miles.

And via the Wolfram Alpha search engine, I can tell you that two Rhode Islands (1,040 square miles each) and a Delaware (1,950 square miles) would add up to 4,030 square miles.

So Carlin was a bit off. But not by much.

That being said, I don’t think we need to reclaim the land used for golf; we just need to get back the time wasted while playing it. That’s the key to making America a more productive nation.

What Journalists Can Learn From Shaq

Two weeks ago, Slam Magazine named Shaquille O’Neal the fourth greatest basketball player in NBA history. Now, argue all you want about whether or not Shaq is better than some other names on that list — like Oscar Robertson (no. 5 on the list), Magic Johnson (no. 6) or Juwan Howard (weirdly, not ranked). I’m not here to argue his place in history.

But here’s what I find remarkable: unlike most of the players on that list, when I think of Shaq, I don’t think of basketball first.

Sure, Jordan’s synonymous with all sorts of YouTubeable highlights. Dr. J cues up an image of a man finishing a reverse layup from behind the basket. Say John Havlicek’s name, and immediately, four words come to mind: “Stole the ball.

Then there’s Shaq. I’ll remember him not for his four NBA titles but for what he did — and said — off the court.

That’s why he’s the subject of this week’s “What Journalists Can Learn From…”

1. Control your brand name.
Shaq’s a perfect example of how to — and how to not — build your brand. He’s cultivated this larger-than-life image by being wildly quotable and media friendly. ESPN’s run a Top 10 of Shaq’s most famous quotes — my favorite: “We’re not worried about the Sacramento Queens” — on more than a handful of occasions. His “MTV Cribs” episode is awesome. His arrival in Miami a few years back was brilliant. But then there’s the flip side: his movie career was a flop, and his notorious Kobe Bryant-themed rap landed on the web. Building a brand means giving people unique content, and Shaq’s certainly as quotable as any in pro sports. But he’s also been prone to poor decision making in public.

2. If you tweet, tweet well.
Shaq’s closing in on 1.5 million followers, and it’s because his Twitter feed is among the most innovative anywhere. He engages users in ridiculous contests — today, he asked followers to send in their best “Yo Momma” joke — and retweets regularly.

3. Evolve. Shaq — the basketball player — in 2009 is not the same as the Shaq of even a few seasons ago. But after his recent trade to Cleveland, many pegged the Cavs as a title contender. Shaq’s slower, and certainly not the dominant force that he was earlier this decade. But he’s evolved into something else. He’s a role player who’s said publicly that he doesn’t mind coming off the bench, and there aren’t many stars who are willing to sacrifice their own stats for the team. He’s finding his niche as he ages and staying relevant. I’ve said it before: if you have essential skills to offer, you can always find an audience that needs your services.

When Twitter Breaks the News. (But Why Twitter Shouldn’t Be the News.)

Now here’s the miracle of Twitter: I’ve got a column in Tweet Deck searching for any Tweet that includes the word “San Antonio” or the hashtag “#satx.” And about a half hour ago, this tweet pops up at the top of the column:

But there’s no link, and no follow up. The AP doesn’t have anything on it. Neither does ESPN.com or SI.com.

And then, suddenly, a flood of tweets opens up in the column, all about the trade. One’s got a link.

So we’re off. A breaking news update goes on to kens5.com. A competitor — KSAT 12 — follows a few minutes later. (Worth noting: ESPN.com’s headline doesn’t go online until a few minutes after that.) Suddenly, the newsroom’s buzzing, with anchors getting called in and reporters being dispatched to Spur-related sites around the city.

A boss calls asking if we can get a full story on the site soon. Sure, I say. But shouldn’t we confirm the story first?

Twitter: a great tool. But nothing beats original reporting.

A Sign That I May Tweeting Too Often.

So I’m driving west on I-40 today, somewhere near Knoxville, Tenn., when I see a billboard on the opposite site of the road for a local restaurant. The billboard reads something like, “Exit 40B, then RT.”

And looking at it, I see the letters “RT” and fully expect an “@” and a username to follow it.

Then I realize that “RT” means “right.”

I’m an idiot.

What Journalists Can Learn From a Business Trip.

I’m finishing up a road trip, so this Friday’s installment of “What Journalists Can Learn From…” is all about business travel. When I’m on the road, I’m just looking to be treated humanely. But sometimes, it seems that companies forget to do even that.

The photo at right — me, standing next to an entirely-too-low shower head — will be addressed in a moment.

That being said, I’m thinking about three things that journalists can learn when traveling:

1. Serve the Public Good. On my Southwest flight from Baltimore to San Antonio, we’d only been waiting on the tarmac for 10 minutes when the pilot came over the loudspeakers. “So, we could be waiting here a while,” he said. “You can turn on your phones if you’d like.” Then, an hour later, he announced that we would be heading back to the gate, because the airport was probably going to shut down due to severe weather. So they allowed passengers to disembark.

Meanwhile, out the window, we could see that other airlines were leaving their passengers trapped on the plane during a thunderstorm.

An hour later, we reboarded the plane, and the pilot continued to keep us up-to-date about what was happening and why we weren’t taking off. The flight left some six-and-a-half hours late, but passengers didn’t complain. The Southwest crew kept the passengers informed, and they weren’t afraid to say that they were frustrated by what was happening, too. I’ve never been on a flight that was delayed that long, but I’ve also never been on a flight where we were so well informed about why the delay was happening. (The pilot even threw in a nice plug, asking passengers to write in to their Congressman about our nation’s outdated air traffic control system.) Southwest’s crew acted with the passengers’ best interests at heart, so the passengers were willing to cooperate despite the delays.

2. Be Easy to Reach. During the delay, I was trying to reach Enterprise Rent-a-Car to change my reservation. I called both numbers from my confirmation email; neither line got me through to a real human being. So I used Google’s 411 service to find Enterprise’s customer service line, and eventually, an actual person was able to direct me to the San Antonio Enterprise location. Still, if I didn’t have more than a few dollars at stake, I’d have given up. Any organization should be imminently reachable, especially by phone or email (but also via Facebook, Twitter, comments on blogs, etc). Meet your community, wherever they are.

3. Know Your Clientele. So that photo at the top of this post is of me in my shower at the La Quinta. Now, this is a hotel that gives you what you want: a clean bed, good air conditioning, and a nice bathroom. But the shower head is unbelievably low. I know that at my size — I’m 6’5” — I have to crouch to shower sometimes. But the La Quinta shower head would be too low for someone a foot shorter than me. La Quinta’s simply forgotten to do a basic thing really well, and the next time I’m considering a La Quinta, I won’t remember that the hotel had a free breakfast and a pool outside. But I’ll absolutely remember that I had to go to my knees to wash my hair.

What Was It That I Was Supposed to Remember, Exactly?


Two things that play really well on the Internet: sarcasm and lists. Last summer, I tried to combine both into a segment from Beijing that I called “What I’ve Learned.” As my week in San Antonio is winding down, I wanted to post a few initial impressions from this city.

-Real late-night drive-throughs have two lanes.

-Someone named Bill Miller is making a killing in this town.

-Air conditioning is not part of the lifestyle here; it is the lifestyle.

-If Eva Longoria shows up at a Wendy’s in town, nobody will seem surprised.

-I-10 West really goes North, and I-10 East really goes South. This is understood.

-There may not be a chicken in every pot, but there is a Mexican restaurant on every block.

-Going the wrong way? There’s a turnaround for that.

-Things are bigger in Texas, but it only takes 10 minutes to drive into downtown.

-And they still rent Chevy Aveos here.

-Some people end their conversations with “Hook ’em horns.” Many people do not want to be associated with these people.

-There was something I was supposed to remember in this town. What was it, exactly?

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H/T to tomasland for the photo.

Life After College. (or: Life? After College?)


This seemed to work well with my family at Thanksgiving, so I’ll try it again here.

1. Yes, I have a job (with these guys).

2. Yes, I have a fancier title than I deserve (officially: Digital Media Producer).

3. No, the use of Title Case is not necessary, but I like it anyway.

4. Yes, I’m aware that things are bigger in Texas.

5. No, I do not plan on using “You know, they say that everything’s bigger in Texas” as a pick up line.

Never fear: I’ll still be blogging at Dan Oshinsky.com. I’ll just be keeping the pornographically-related stories to a minimum.

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H/T to Corey Leopold for the photo of San Antonio’s Riverwalk, and to Dave Barry for the stolen title.

Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself.

I’m noticing a massive spike in traffic from the San Antonio region, so to my new corporate overlords, I say, “Welcome!”

If you’d like to know how I feel about meteorologists, click here.

If you’d like to read about my dedication to finding barbecue wherever I am, click here.

If you’d to learn why I’m a fairly blurry individual, click here.

If you’re wondering whether or not I’m sarcastic, click here.

Thanks,
The Management.