maddness

Last evening I was struck with an insanity so deep and profound as to leave an endless stain upon my very soul. I felt it coming, felt it slide about me - seeking an entrance into my vulnerable psyche. The haze of doom and bleek despair obscured my gaze and I was tricked into traveling a road I knew would only destroy me. And so, and so I did the only thing I could - I embraced the maddness and followed the siren song of horror and terror to my destination and my terrible fate.

I went to McDonald's for dinner.

Oh, I knew that the meaty fate could not continue to be cheated forever as it had been so recently. Reasonably good service, enjoyable food presented in a tidy fashion - such things are possible only with the proper alignment of the stars and planets. Some small sliver of hope - perhaps fostered by a successful visit to the post office to mail a package earlier in the day - lead me to believe that today would continue the - dare I say it? Yes, I shall - trend of quality food at the golden arches.

Sadly, it was not meant to be.

Though the restuarnt was not busy in any way, it took several minutes before the counter staff would acknowledge that I even exisited. While I waited, they engaged in a serious discussion of the new shorts that the guy had purchased and how the color scheme matched Michael Jordon's school colors. The shorts were refered to as "crispy" - and though I am fairly well versed in popular slang for a 30+ year old white guy, I was at something of a loss. The conversation moved on to how tall a person should be before they make that critial move from low top to high top shoes.

This discussion concluded, the girl called the guy by name and directed him to the counter to wait on me - clearly demarking the pecking order of the resturant.

While they had debated the fate of the universe - I had been intently studying the menu. Though I thought I had decryped the needlessly complicated menu system - I could not seem to locate the Spicy Chicken sandwich. Undaunted, I attempted to order that anyway. The guy at the register regarded me with a look I'm sure he reserved for the stupid people of the universe - then told me that they don't have that anymore.

"oh," I thought "you'll bring back the freaking McRib every two years but you can't keep something that actually tastes good on the menu?"

Aloud, I hemmed and hawwed for a moment - then decided on my standard. Two hamburgers, lettuce only and a large fry. I would have gotten a small fry, but I'm familier with their hamburger patties and knew better than to assumed that even two of them would be enough to sate me.

Getting hamburger plain + lettuce involves a lot of button pressing, but eventually he finished and took my money, then handed me change and a receipt.

Now, I may have mentioned that business was slow that night, so I was able to watch as the sandwiches were made and know they were mine since they were the only ones being fixed. From my location at the counter I could see the .... I was going to call him a cook, but he did no actual cooking. Let's just call him the Sandwich Prep Dude or SPD for short. The SPD carefully and intently focused on the task at hand with the concentration of a blind whale perfoming brain surgery on a hamster while using chopsticks. And, get this sports fans, it was under the watchful eye and assistance of his supervisor. I suspect it may have been the first sandwich he had ever made in his entire life. Perhaps, due to the strangeness of time itself in my presence, it made have been the first sandwich ever made in the history of the universe.

Once his task was completed, he launched each sandwich into a chute with enough force that, if there had not been a solid metal barrier there, they would have flown across the resturant, through a window, and from there possibly into earth orbit.

My two friends at the counter then engaged in a brief scuffle to determine who would have the honor of presenting the sandwiches to me along with the fries. The guy with the new shorts won, and he carefully folded down the top of the bag while at the same time totally ignoring once again that I existed. He placed the bag in my general vicinity without a word and wandered away - perhaps feeling the shame of handing me a bag containing what we could only hope contained food, but knowing all the while it was terrible lie.

As I exited the ... I was almost going to call it a resturant, ha! As I exited the chamber of horrors, the frier alarm went off to cap off my visit. I checked the bag to verify that my order contained 2 sandwiches and some fries and made my way home to eat.

The fries were okay - a little too salty, but still a food item and not a salt lick for woodland creatures. The first burger was bland and tasteless even by my standards and the second...

The second burger, the second burger. Halfway through this pseudo-meat unit I bit into an onion. Apparently, the SPD did need every bit of concentration and supervision that could be thrust upon him - he hadn't cleared his work surface and had mixed an onion into the lettuce.

The shock, surprise, and foul taste made me retch - I could not finish even that bite. The untainted fries went into my gullet - the rest of the burger went into the trash.

Though my hunger was mostly sated, I felt hollow inside. As with Casey and the Bat, there was no joy in mudville that day. All I wanted was a spicy chicken sandwich to burn my lips and fill my belly. Instead, I had my heart and hopes shattered upon the cold tiles of the floor of the golden arches.

I should have just fixed some ramen.

back to work...