Burger King, McDonalds, and KFC:
the backbone of America. No? Sadly, half true. America is known for its obesity
rate and as much as I ate fast food in America, I’m eating it twice as much
here. My new figure (where’s the gym) is telling me no but my taste buds, or drunken
taste buds, are telling me yes. On every corner there is a fast food place of
some sort. Being a broke college student studying in London, the exchange rate
here is k i l l i n g me. Rewind to before I even arrived in London when I took
out $300, which converted to £180. Pure tragedy. Even to do 2 loads of laundry
makes me $14 more broke. *trying to
hold back tears while typing this*
So why is every drunk food expedition
(sometimes sober as well) mustered up of fatty, greasy foods? Because a KFC snack
box is £2. Because there is nothing like a taste of America when you are
feeling those homesick blues. Because a salad isn’t going to soak up the
alcohol. BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING THAT TASTES BETTER THAN FRIES AND A WHOPPER.
Except I’m not going to lie, and I’m kind of being confusing because I just
talked about how cheap fast food is, but on Monday night Janice and I went into
Victoria Station and a whopper from BK was 8 US Dollars. So naturally, we each
got one.
The thing that blows my mind about
the fast food restaurants here is how elite they are. They all have security
guards standing at the door. Sometimes two of them. And this takes me to why I
love the fast food restaurants in America.
In America, they hold the door for
me as I walk in. They wave to me and greet me with a “Hi Taylor! How ya doing?”
They even ask if I want “the usual.” And while that’s all a boldfaced lie, they
sure as hell don’t act as if I need to be on a guest list or know somebody of
importance to get into such a mediocre establishment.
Here in London, I haven’t been
allowed into a Burger King two times already. While the first time was
hilarious (me waving my arms to my friends in a “look over here!” manner, or so
they told me, and then trying to trick the security guards by going through a
different door, which didn’t work), and I told that story before, but the second
time was literally just because. It wasn’t even completely full! They must have
my name and picture taped up in the back or something because this Burger King
in Piccadilly Circus is EXCLUSIVE, let me tell you.
After not being allowed in Burger
King, we headed on over to KFC. Here, there are two security guards standing in
front of the door with their hands crossed if front of their bodies. I don’t
think they realized that they are literally guarding fried chicken, not the
President of the United States of America (similar in importance though). Once
we got to them, they obviously told us it was up to capacity already. Being the
annoying girls we are, Janice and I said, “We hate England!” Ugh, I take it
back because after we walked away, we went back and snuck right on passed them
with our heads lowered and a smile on our faces. We are so annoying.
Now today as I am on my lunch break
during my internship, I pass Five Guys. This is the most legit establishment
there is. There is a red rope outside lining the wall as if it were the most
prestigious club in the city. A security
guard is slowly letting people in from the line. Once someone goes out, another can go in. I cannot
make this stuff up, people. It’s real. It’s happening. It’s fast food: London
Edition.
This was after sneaking in. Sad how genuinely happy I look.
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