a glass of milk please

There are certain things you expect to hear in a restaurant.

"I'll have a beer."

"A Diet Coke."

"A glass of cabernet."

Even water feels normal.

What does not feel normal is hearing a fully grown adult look a server in the eye and confidently say:

"I'll have a small glass of milk."

Years ago, my cousin used to do exactly that.

We would sit down at a restaurant. The server would arrive. The beverage order would begin. Somebody would order a soda. Somebody else would order an iced tea.

Then my cousin would casually request a small glass of milk as if he were selecting something from an extensive cocktail program.

No hesitation.

No embarrassment.

Just milk.

To be fair, he was an athlete at the time. The guy was probably thinking about protein, recovery, calcium, or whatever it is athletes think about while the rest of us are wondering whether we should order fries.

Still.

Milk?

At a restaurant?

Something about it always felt off.

Not wrong.

Just... unexpected.

Like seeing someone wear ski boots to a wedding.

Or hearing somebody refer to ketchup as a smoothie.

The funny thing is that people who order milk at restaurants usually belong to another group that fascinates me.

The people who eat all of their fries before they touch their burger.

I don't understand this behavior either.

Friends, it's called a burger and fries.

Not fries and then eventually a burger.

The whole point is balance.

A bite of burger.

A couple fries.

Back to the burger.

Maybe another fry.

It's a carefully choreographed dance.

Yet some people attack the fries like they're racing against a timer, finish the entire basket, and only then turn their attention to the burger.

By that point the burger is cooling down.

The cheese is no longer performing at peak levels.

The bun has lost momentum.

Meanwhile, they sit there wondering why the burger isn't as good as they expected.

Because you left it waiting.

Nobody orders a steak and says, "Hold on, let me finish all these mashed potatoes first."

The burger deserves better.

So does the milk, honestly.

Maybe that's the lesson here.

The world is full of people who order milk at restaurants and eat all their fries first.

And while I may never fully understand them, I admire their confidence.

Because if you can order a small glass of milk with a cheeseburger in front of a crowded restaurant and feel absolutely no shame, you're probably living life exactly the way you want to.

And there is something respectable about that.