Anyway, here in the great state of Minnesota we have only one Popeye's Fried Chicken location which is located on Lake Street. Apparently this sole Popeye's chose to celebrate Earth Day in another fashion and decided not to offer the "Popeye's Fried Chicken Earth Day Super Special Deal On Chicken Extravaganza," a deal that was advertised on national television.
Chaos ensued.
(Please watch the accompanying video, it is so worth it)
Ever since this story broke and we all felt its horrifying aftermath I have been pondering something. No, I have not been considering the implications of corporate-franchisee relationships or the legality of claims of false advertising or the ramifications of celebrating Earth Day via chicken.
I have been thinking over the past week about how I could really go for some fried chicken.
Though I am not nearly as bad as I was, say 10 years ago, I am still a fast food afficiando. I have an intimate knowledge of the fast food locations in the Twin Cities. I know which locations to seek out (Wendy's on Xerxes in Edina) and which locations to avoid at all costs (Subway, downtown St. Paul.) My brain is like Mapquest for fast food. I can tell you what is where and how to get there with Rainman like recall.
I was driving to work this afternoon, thinking that before I went through my daily routine of checking my soul, dreams, hopes, and aspirations at the door of my place of employment, I would grab some lunch. I was had it in my mind that I was going to stop at a place that shall remain nameless, but let's just say they serve "Noodles."
As I drove I saw a place that I have driven past 1000 times in my life, which never evoked any reaction in me at all. I passed a KFC.
Mmmmmm. Chicken. Fried Chicken.
I looked a little closer and saw that this particular KFC offered a lunch buffet. All-you-can-eat.
Double Mmmmm.
Before I knew it my reflexed took over and, using "Bandit" like manuevers, I whipped a u-turn and pulled into the parking lot. My day went been downhill from there.
I gladly paid my 8 bucks for my plate and before I was able to proceed to the Kentucky Fried offerings, I was informed that I needed to get "stamped."
"I need to stamp your hand" the guy behind the counter said in cool, businesslike, professional manner.
I meekly offered the back of my hand and with a little more ceremony than I thought necessary, the counter guy raised the "stamper" up behind his ear and stamped my hand, in bold, black, capital letters: BUFFET.
I felt like I had been branded with a scarlet letter, or in this case, a scarlet word. Although also in this case, not scarlet but black. Anyway, you get the metaphor. I never have actually read Hawthorne. Gimme a break.
For the rest of the day, and part of the next I was branded. Getting a stamp from the buffet at KFC puts a label on you. It may as well have said:
"Unhealthy"
or
"Lacks any sense of taste"
or
"Completely, Totally, and Hopelessly Unsophisticated"
or
"Inevitable Coronary"
I was going to go into detail about how awful the food was-- the layer of "skin" on the baked beans, the crusty mashed potatoes, the item in the buffet I literally could not identify, the fried chicken that seemed to be missing the part that was supposed to be chicken....
But I'll spare you those details.
Let's just say I had a bad day and it was in no small part due to my ill-advised foray to the land of KFC. I also had the scarlet letter as a reminder of my shame.
