why is it called in-n-out when the lines are so long

I still remember the first time I ate at In-N-Out Burger.

I am a Texas transplant, having lived in the Los Angeles area for almost five years now. Before moving out to the West Coast, I had numerous native Californians and people who had visited the Golden State tell me that the first place I should eat, the absolute first stop I should make, upon arriving should be to visit an In-N-Out and try their burgers.

To say that In-N-Out was hyped would be an understatement. I was told that this would be the greatest fast food I had ever tasted, the most delicious burger known to humanity. I had a few Californian friends in Texas and many of them listed In-N-Out as their number one thing they missed about home, just above family members and significant friends. (At least, that’s how it came across.)

In the first weeks after moving into my apartment, I got to know my three new flatmates: Seth, Eric, Josh, fellow new students at Fuller who were all native Californians. Finally, one night In-N-Out came into our conversation, and two of my flatmates were mortified that I had never tasted the Manna From Heaven. I remembered having seen one of the restaurants while driving around, as had Josh. Both of us remembered the place being not far from our apartment, so we convinced Eric to walk with us.

Now, I was never much of a pedestrian in my life before living in Pasadena, California. I was enjoying my newfound mobility on sidewalks, something foreign to me for the most part in the places I lived in Texas. It was a comfortable evening, and my two new friends and I were enjoying getting to know one another as we traveled toward to the burger joint. Walking down Walnut street, we passed Lake Avenue, then Hill Street, then Sierra Bonita, then…

Eric asked, “Are you sure you guys know where this place is?” We had been walking for over half and hour. Josh and I looked at each other, starting to lose our conviction that In-N-Out was so close after all.

We finally did reach the In-N-Out Burger after about fifty minutes of walking. We saw the line of cars long before we saw the restaurant, and then joined a queue at the order window about twenty people long. Finally I had my chance to order, asking for an ordinary cheeseburger and some fries. Josh and Eric tried to sway me toward the Animal Fries, but I have my limits, particularly in regard to Thousand Island Dressing.

We waited and waited for our food, and probably an hour and a half after we left our apartment I finally bit into my first In-N-Out burger.

It was kind of boring.

Don’t get me wrong – it was a perfectly decent burger, better than many I’ve eaten. But it was no more amazing than something from Whataburger or Wendy’s. Josh and Eric watched me with wide-eyed anticipation as I chewed my first bite, and after I swallowed they both asked for my verdict. “It’s OK,” I shrugged.

They gasped. For a moment I thought I’d already made two enemies.

We headed back to our apartment, bellies full of greasy fast food and soda, unenthusiastic about walking a few miles. Halfway back Eric grumbled, “Man, I hate you guys.” He said it with a smile, though. It was a good evening.

And thus, In-N-Out symbolizes my Los Angeles experience. There’s a lot of hype about what’s going on and what we get to experience, but in the ends it turns out pretty ordinary. When I get to share the experiences with good friends, though, it suddenly becomes meaningful.