There was a time when the golden arches of McDonald’s were a welcome sight, an oasis of calm and relief on long car trips with my kids, a place where I didn’t have to hear “are we there yet?” for at least 20 minutes. In those days it was about peace and quiet, not calories and cholesterol. If a burger with something resembling a milk shake and a small plastic toy with deadly edges could keep the kids quiet, I was for it. I never questioned the food itself. It didn’t matter. I didn’t eat it, they did. Okay, so my kids grew up with a few personality disorders possibly relating to diet, but I’m not going to blame the fast food chain for my actions.
However, times have changed and now, granddaughter in tow, the fast food palaces still beckon as we cruise along the highway. But I am wiser now, or at least I’m supposed to be. After my kids left home and I could afford food that didn’t come in bulk packaging, I discovered the health benefits of simply eating better, fresher, higher quality foods. I’m not talking about becoming a vegetarian, vegan, beegan or ceegan, which incidentally are people who remain internally cleansed by only eating lettuce and pine nuts on alternating Tuesdays during the waning cycle of the moon. No, I’m just referring to fresh, wholesome, quality foods, preferably cooked by someone else.
So recently I had my granddaughter for a big Saturday out. We headed for town to go to Gracie’s Department Store but first I decided we needed some lunch. Walking along the sidewalk I spotted a nice little bistro-style café with an intriguing menu of northern Italian cuisine and, even better, an extensive list of exotic beers. Next door was one of the newer fast food inventions called a “co-location,” where you find three or four fast food outlets bundled together in one miniscule little space. Now you can get four-times the indigestion without having to travel as far. I ignored it and headed for the door of the café, but I felt a strong tug on my jacket accompanied by what sounded like a small, wounded animal caught in a hunter’s trap. It was the girl.
I asked what the problem was and she pointed to the Quadplex Food Emporium. Emanating from inside was the combined smell of hot grease, hot dogs, hot chicken and not so hot, freshly thawed donuts decorated with various types of sticky, sugary stuff. There was also a counter for ice cream if you were ready for full hypoglycemic shock. I pulled back from her frantic tugging and tried to play dumb, as if I hadn’t seen the Quadplex yet. She was way ahead of me though and kept pointing at the miasma of multi-colored logos while increasing the pitch of the whining. I shook my head and pointed at the cafe, making an equally obnoxious sound similar to a great Viking horn announcing the arrival of Bjorn the Braggart coming up the fjord. My mouth was dry and I envisioned kicking open the café door while announcing loudly, “Barkeep! A tankard of grog for me and my men!”
So a few minutes later I found myself in a line for hot dogs with disgruntled patrons who were mumbling about waiting since the day before for service. I noticed that in a slow-moving food line people tend to nudge forward and shift their weight side to side in a fashion very reminiscent to how drivers try to outmaneuver each other in a dense traffic jam. I used the kid to block and secured our position in the line, where we waited 45 minutes to get to the counter. To keep it simple I asked for “Special Meal #2” from the overhead sign. The picture showed two large, juicy, plump hot dogs perfectly cooked, sitting in perfect buns with a side order of crispy brown French fries and a large “original recipe” lemonade. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was really ordering a Stella Artois and a grilled chicken Caesar salad, but the smell brought me back to reality. I was told the price and did a quick calculation to see if I had an adequate credit limit to handle it. Fast food is neither fast nor cheap.
Our order came up about fifteen minutes later. There were about thirty or so people working behind the counter in a space that might possibly accommodate a park bench, but despite all the motion there seemed to be very little getting done. There was also a language issue that I will definitely avoid discussing except to mention that the lady making drinks seemed to think everything meant “super large.” The first time the hot dogs were brought up they were missing the mustard and the relish and I sent them back. The second time they were brought up they were missing just the relish. The third time they had mustard and relish but no rolls, and by the fourth time all the components were there but the hot dogs looked suspiciously smaller than in the previous orders. By the fifth time the order was presented to us even the French fries were there and with some pigeon English instructions I was able to secure a beverage in a smaller cup that I could hold in just one hand.
Seating was the next challenge. The tables were wedged close enough together that if you took a bite the next person had to do the chewing and a third person could swallow for you. It was communal eating at its worst. I looked at the charred hot dogs, the stale buns and the undercooked French fries and felt guilty about giving it to the girl. I was supposed to know better by now. I had neglected the dietary needs of the previous generation and mankind would have to pay for my carelessness for years to come. I couldn’t do it again. She looked too vulnerable, too precious, too…who was I kidding? I wanted a cold beer. I dumped the order in the trash and we headed back to the cafe, ordered a lemonade not made from powder, a nice cold beer and a couple of nice fresh salads. We never made it to Gracie’s Department Store that day. My granddaughter didn’t really care. I didn’t really care. And I’m sure the workers at the Quadplex Food Emporium really didn’t care either.
(Note: Major fast food brand names like Taco Bell, KFC, Pizza Hut and a host of others are owned by one company, Yum! Brands, which outranks even McDonald’s as the world’s largest fast food chain in terms of outlets. The company has 37,000 restaurants in 110 countries, including nearly 3,000 KFC chicken restaurants in China – not an area that readily comes to mind when you think of fried chicken. Co-branding and co-location are popular trends in the fast food industry.)
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