Swizzle stick

We live in the age of takeaway-everything, a phenomenon amplified since the late, great plague by another barbarism: the drive-thru. You need no longer even get off your derrière to collect the goods. Just lower the power window, flash your phone, then “grab-and-go.” That this is a powerful cultural proposition the conga-line of cars filling multiple lanes at your local Chick-fil-A, where they have it down to a science, will attest. I recall my first innocent meeting with drive-thru, then called drive-in, in 1959 when a bank in the small town where my family lived cut a hole in the wall and installed the requisite sliding drawer. Things have clearly gotten out of hand since. Not all takeaway is created equal.