Like many people in the United States, I’ve had a lifelong fondness for Girl Scout cookies, and like a considerable percentage of Girl Scout cookie fans, my favorite variety has always been Thin Mint.
Of course, you can’t purchase Girl Scout cookies just any old time; you can buy them only during their brief annual sales drive, and even then, only if you happen to be in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, you can’t always predict when and where you might run into a Girl Scout with cookies to sell. Generally, the pattern has been that I find them in front of the subway station when I’m in a hurry and have no cash, and can’t find them when I have both time and money. But, when the planets have aligned and I’ve discovered a source under the right circumstances, I’ve always bought as many boxes as I could, which has invariably turned out to be two (plus the Samoas that Morgen’s especially fond of).
If I exercise the utmost self control and ration myself severely, two boxes of Thin Mint cookies will last about two months. So when, in July or October, I have the inevitable craving for Thin Mint cookies, I’m completely out of luck. (And don’t get me started on other brands of thin chocolate-mint cookies. They Just Aren’t The Same.) Of course, I’ll get another craving in January or February, and that’s when I start thinking: Hmmmm, Girl Scout cookie season approaches soon. Remember to be on the lookout.
So last week, I was worrying out loud that I may have missed the sales drive this year—I didn’t see any Girl Scouts outside the subway station and didn’t know where else to find them. Then yesterday evening, when I met Morgen after work to see Match Point, we walked right by a little stand on the sidewalk where two or three young girls and their adult helper were cheerfully proffering cookies. Oh yeah.
I had to go down the block to get some extra cash, but I returned 10 minutes later and waited in line. When the youngest of the girls present asked me what I wanted, I said, “I’d like a full case of the Thin Mints”—her eyes got really big—“and two boxes of Samoas.” It took the adult helper a few moments to calculate how much that would cost ($49 in all, probably the single largest cookie purchase of my life). But I think I made some scouts very happy, and I know I made myself very happy.
Of course, then we had to lug all those boxes to the theater and back, and they were pretty heavy. (Morgen helpfully noted that the weight would soon shift from the box to my midsection.) But it was worth the effort.
I still have to ration them, but now I can reliably count on having at least one Thin Mint cookie every single day until next year’s drive. Life is good.
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