I don’t think I heard about Hurricane Sandy until Saturday, and only because I heard they were stopping all mass transit on Sunday as of 7pm. So I went out skating as much as I could that night. When I hit Clinton Hill I got a text from who said they were in the area so I decided to meet them. They were at a McDonalds.
I don’t really hang out in McDonalds; I have seen too many videos online of people getting in fights in public places, and most of these places tend to be fast food joints. Realizing that if you are what you eat, and you go to a place that serves shit, what kind of people do you think you are going to be waiting in line next to you.
I’ll do you one better, I was on the A train a few weeks ago when a west indian woman opened her bible to read a line to everyone in the car. “Psalm 51 vs 7” she said, as she began to read from it. Then she elaborated on how this verse related to her, stating that she once worked at McDonalds, and that it was hard. People were rude to her, and would curse at her leaving her to ask herself “god, what did I do to deserve this?”. Then she stated that god was a tester, and that no matter how big your problems were, Jesus was mightier than all of them, and that you got to have faith.
Me personally if I was in line at a McDonalds and someone started a fight anywhere around me, I wouldn’t think god was testing me, I would tell myself to leave and then yell at myself for setting foot in McDonalds at he first place.
Nobody smiles in this place, except for the kids, and why not, they are getting Halloween Happymeals which are served in a bucket. Growing up as someone who’s parent had horses, I think there is something shamelessly demeaning, yet comical about serving food to people.. in a bucket. I initially wanted to think that it would be awesome if there were a place where adults ate from buckets, then I remembered Aziz telling me about that scene in Precious when she ate a whole bucket of chicken. Oprah is a comedic genius.
When I was a kid my mom traditionally refused to give in to my pleas for McDonalds, stating that it was plastic food. Eating at the place was always a rarity, my mom knew better, and we ate at that Chinese buffet across the street instead.
I met my friend at the McDonalds on Clinton and Atlantic. In just a few hours they were to stop all mass transit for the 5 boroughs. She was drinking water and had a fish sandwich. I would like to say I never understood the idea of sea food at such a place, but then there’s the McRib, McPizza, etc… But honestly… none of this holds a candle to the artwork on the walls. Why; Why bother, who are you appealing to, who had the job of picking it out and can I meet them?
I can’t imagine deciding what art to put on the walls on McDonalds, and then asking for payment, jesus, what an amazing life this person must have. Thats a dream job right there sir, that or deciding what people eat on Fear Factor.
It’s not all hatred I have for this place, I actually have some fond memories of this place. I remember when I lived in San Francisco, David Spero (aka the pig) referred to the Egg McMuffin as “the classic” of breakfast sandwiches. Back then I worked the graveyard shift at this 24 hour diner called Sparkys. At the end of every shift I would sit down with all the Mexican who cooked in the back and together we would throw back as much free beer as possible.
So traditionally we would get off our shift around 7am, and by 8 we would have floated the keg after which I would head home. There I would be, stumbling down market street at sunrise, with Tupac’s “All eyes on me” blasting on my headphones. A drunken eyesore repelling all these business folk on their way to work as the sun rose through the office buildings of downtown San Francisco.
It was the height of the dotcom boom, and even though the rents had soared, there were always alternatives. You could live in an office building, use the bathroom down the hall and shower at a gym, which is exactly what I did. I lived in an 8 x 10 office in the Grant building on 7th and market… right across the street was a McDonalds. I would wander in the lounge reeking of ale at 8:30 in the morning and order 2 Egg McMuffins. I’d take em up to my office on the 3rd floor, stretch out my futon couch and eat them in bed, till I passed out.
Like I said… you are what you eat.