Return to the home front, KFC is Dead


Ran into all kinds of fun and wonderful delays in the airport. The best of which was being told, while on the plane tarmac, that the plane in front of us was another delayed plane headed toward to LaGuardia. They were supposed to take of at 6:00, we were supposed to take off it at 7:30…it was 9:15, go figure. Best moment of the flight was after being told that we would be stuck on the runway for an additional twenty minutes this one girl about my age said something along the lines of, “Oh ma god, I can’t baa-lieve this shit here? They all-aways pull some bullcrap lika this.” People talk like this? Amazing.

Strange random encounter at RDU Terminal 2; ran into Ness and Miss O. They were headed on plane to Minneapolis, then transferring to Nebraska, to then drive to Iowa for a wedding. I could sworn that Miss O said it was for Ness’ brother, but Rage called today and said that Ness doesn’t have any siblings. So that’s a story I would love completed. I still find it unusual that I remember all of the stops on the Ness-O road trip but completely forgot A) Ness has no siblings and B) who the fuck’s wedding are they going to. Amazing.

For those of you who don’t know, I am the only member of my apartment who currently cooks. Jack Danger will argue that, but if you only cook pasta, it doesn’t count. Either way I’m a bit of a foodie, so thank the heavens that I grew up in New York and London. So it’s always a fun experience to see what kinds of food will be offer when I go to a new place. This is why airports terrify me, the selection of food is…how would you say it…poor. You can’t seriously go to one of the terminal’s bar and grills and ask what’s good. Chefs in airports tend to be of a lower standard. If you’re a cook and you’re working airports, you may be a bit of failure.

So keeping that in mind, I usually stick with the established chains. Last night’s franchise to feel my whimsy was KFC, or the restaurant formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. The menu was quite sparse. All I wanted was a bucket of original recipe and a pint of beer. There were two problems with this request, A) I had forgotten that KFC doesn’t serve alcohol and B) for some fucking ridiculous reason, this KFC didn’t stock original recipe. What the fuck! When I go to a KFC, I expect fried chicken on the bone, not a vast array of stupid sandwiches. I cut my losses and went with the KFC Snacker meal, which has two sandwiches for the price of one. However, what they failed to tell me is that the KFC Snacker is a chicken finger on a bun. No joke, a chicken finger with lettuce and mayo. Fuck my life.

Things actually got much better once I was on the plane. I agreed to move to the back of the plane for balance, also to get away from the loud, crazy girl from the first paragraph. So my in-flight concessions were free. I got a complimentary bottle of red wine from American Airlines, which I chugged to make the annoying hazing stories from the Marine Corporal sitting behind to sound somewhat bearable. No seriously, I love people who join the armed forces, that takes so much grit and steel. But this tool was trying to impress this girl with these stories of all the terrible training things he has to do, ridiculous.

Anyway, I’m home now. So if any of my Westchester fans what to have a beer with me, send me a line.


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