Tim Hortons, a popular Canadian doughnut chain, opened a location in Dinkytown next to Sssdude-Nutz last Monday. Needless to say, Canada has found the best possible market for their doughnuts and coffee — Midwest American college students.

At 1 p.m. on Saturday, the line snaked all the way to the door — a bad first sign, considering I only had 12 minutes left on my parking meter.

Everyone in line looked eager to get their hands on some Timbits, which are small doughnut holes that come in flavors like apple fritter and chocolate glaze.

As I waited to order, it occurred to me how unfit the building was for the chain restaurant. The inside was congested, with little room for customers and employees to move. It seemed like the interior designers had attempted a coffeehouse feel, but it felt more like a fast food restaurant.

After spending seven minutes in line, I was finally close enough to see the menu and was pleasantly surprised by the prices. Doughnuts were 99 cents apiece.

From eavesdropping on the orders ahead, it seemed that Timbits were the hot item. Breaking from the crowd, I decided to critique a different part of the menu. I ordered a lunch meal featuring the Italiano Grilled Bagel Sandwich, a medium black coffee and a cinnamon roll for $7.79.

I got my cinnamon roll right away (only nine minutes after my parking meter had expired). While waiting for the rest of my order, I taste-tested the culprit of Canadian obesity. It was great — warm and coated in sugary stuff. I almost forgot I was going to get a $40 parking ticket..

Then I got my just-okay coffee — somewhere between McDonald’s and Starbucks on the coffee spectrum. The lid was awful. I couldn’t figure out how to drink out of the awkward piece of plastic without having hot coffee dribble down my chin.

While I waited for my sandwich, a balding man made a commotion at the register. There were no honey-dipped doughnuts left, and this man wanted a honey-dipped doughnut.

A person who I assumed was the manager walked out of the back. He was muscular with tattoo sleeves beneath his Tim Horton polo. He looked as if he had never eaten a doughnut in his life — the last person I expected to sympathize with the man who needed his honey-dipped doughnut.

The customer grumbled something about compensation. The busy man replied that he could give him a Timcard (a noun that sounded odd coming out of this man’s mouth). No conflict ensued.

Now 18 minutes post-parking meter expiration, I finally got my bagel sandwich. The sundried tomato asiago bagel was surprisingly good, making for an above-average lunch. When I got back out to my car, there was no ticket on my windshield.