A McDonalds. You guy’s don’t know how good you have it.
I’ve been traveling since I was eleven. Our first trip was to London to see my Mum who was phd-ing at the time. There was me and my three sisters…total age of the group was less than forty.
We were VERY independent. At immigration, the officer had to peer over the counter, four little ones, very prim and proper, all papers in order, my name is Shitsugane…yes…yes, that’s…’S’…’H’…’I’…’T’…
Reminds me of getting to JFK and telling them that my living is in drugs. Pharmacologists don’t really say ‘pharamceuticals’…too bombastic.
Anyway, we took the tube into Oxford St. got a hold of my mum and she took as out for dinner. Big Mac and fries.
We’d never seen burgers, I kid you not, and the fries looked like pencils. But we got little packs of ketchup and plastic figures and that kept us busy. That first bite was a revelation. What the hell is pickled cucumber?! Melted cheese?!
We were swimming in the stuff…mind you the burgers themselves were bigger than our heads. No help please, we were lost in chunky meat and sesame seeds and soft buns and the fries stuck in our Afros.
Kshrk. Four African Cactus Children raising mayhem downstairs…we need back-up…we need back-up. Kshrk.
We don’t have McDonalds here. We don’t like sugar in our meat and we have meat in plenty. Really. There’s more meat here than we know what to do with. Those cute little goats you see leaping around in merriment? Lunch.
The first thing I do when I travel is locate a McDonalds. Even in Malaysia (and their food is fantastic), the first meal was a McDonalds.
They taste the same around the world. They must manufacture them in one big factory on the moon.
I’ve seen Moore’s documentary on food in America and I do feel sorry for you lot. It’s a great shock traveling to either the UK or America (these are the hardest hit I feel), we’re led to believe that everyon’s Timberlake or Shakira. It must be soul destroying to be told how distinctly unlike you are to the people in the magazines. Everyday. God.
So that’s what it would be. A nice, big, simple McDonalds.
-my poetry blog – Tomatos, Oranges and Other Fruit–