What price to pay for convenience?

I guess I've got some learning to do before I become a real Southeast Missourian.

Driving around with some other reporters has shown me that locals have a different way of looking at commerce.

The difference rears its head most noticeably when we're on our way back from lunch. They're hankering for cigarettes, and I'm in the mood for an afternoon coffee.

When we pull into the nearest convenience store it's clear that we're not the only ones with this idea. A line of cars snakes out menacingly from the drive-through lane. This isn't going to be an in-and-out transaction, I tell myself.

But then I look inside the store and see the guy manning the walk-up register. He's twiddling his thumbs, it's empty, there are practically tumbleweeds rolling between the aisles.

So I point out that it would be faster to pull into a parking spot and walk right in.

No dice.

My locally born co-workers won't hear of it. "It's so much more convenient," says one. "The line moves really fast once you get in it," insists another.

So we wait. And we savor the convenience. And 30 minutes later we each have our goodies in hand.

Is there something I'm missing? I'll admit that when it comes to drive-through culture, I'm sort of a novice.

Before I moved down here I had never seen drive-through Chinese food, never seen a line of cars waiting to pick up dry-cleaning, never heard of patients sticking their arms out of car windows to get stuck with flu shots.

Boy, did I have a lot to learn.

I was surprised when someone told me I could get my morning doughnut at a drive-through bakery and my after work six-pack at a drive-through convenience store. I thought he'd been sniffing glue.

Another friendly face told me of a store where I could get both a gyro and cheap cigarettes in one stop and from the seat of my car. I smiled, but secretly thought she should be burned for witchcraft.

But that's all in the past. Since I've been living in Cape Girardeau, my eyes have opened.

I've seen the plans for expansion at the Cape Girardeau Public Library that include a drive-up lane for checking out books. I've seen the up-scale eatery Panera Bread open its doors and unveil a first-of-its-kind drive-through window.

I've even seen -- and this one really took my breath away -- a Honey Baked Ham Store where you barely need to slow down for a friendly employee to lob a hefty portion of a pig onto your lap.

Now that's progress.

For a story I wrote in January, I counted 27 drive-through establishments along the 2.6-mile stretch of road on Kingshighway between Bloomfield and Mount Auburn Road.

So, seeing the prevalence, I've begun to adapt. I'm abandoning my need to rub elbows with my fellow citizens just to get a gallon of milk, and I'm relishing the anonymity as I order sesame chicken and don't have to wait around like a loser.

It's all there for the taking, and in the future it'll only get easier.

But I still can't help but wonder if we're losing something here. What happens when we never have to bump into someone we didn't want to see? What do we gain when we never accidentally lock eyes with someone we never thought we'd know?

Convenience?

TJ Greaney is a staff reporter for the Southeast Missourian.