Fine Dining

Internet friends, sometimes we do things where we look back and think to ourselves, "what the hell was I thinking." I daresay I had one of those moments today. A few months ago, I agreed with a friend from law school that to celebrate our graduation, we would have lunch at the KFC buffet. Why? I have no idea. Today though, I ate my words... and then some.

Now, just for the record, I haven't been to KFC in years - I'd say at least six. So, I don't want any misimpressions created that I make it a habit of dining with the Colonel. That would be a falsity. In fact, I think I made a vow not to return to KFC six years ago, when I nearly slipped and fell on the layer of grease that coated the entire floor of the restaurant. But, a pact is a pact, and I committed myself to this, so I went today. Loyalty is the most important thing.

I think there are two things that any novice must know about the KFC buffet.

1 - You get your hand stamped with a tiny Colonel Sanders

2 - There is an entire tray of fried gizzards

There you go folks. Let your imagination run wild. And by run wild, I mean stuff your face with instant mashed potatoes, gelatinous gravy, plastic-textured mac and cheese, and buckets upon buckets of fried chicken, such that neither your imagination nor your body can run for days. And how could I forget the biscuits and "buttery spread." Oh my, the buttery spread...

Needless to say, I am in a poor state of body at the moment. Three styrofoam plates will do that to a man. In my defence, one of those plates contained applesauce.

The thing was, despite the strange desire to vomit, I think the two of us walked out of that restaurant healthier than any other patrons. That's because the KFC buffet is perhaps the greatest venue for suburban people watching known to man. And fortunately for you, readers, I had a perfect vantage point to see everyone in the restaurant.

Perhaps it is best to start with the observation that very rarely do you see so many single men eating plate upon plate of fried chicken by themselves. In fairness, they may all have had very fulfilling personal lives with lovely women (or men) whom they went home to. However, at KFC, they were alone. Therefore, for ease of storytelling and hilarity, they were single. Then again, I was there with another guy, who I picked up at his apartment, so for all intents and purposes, we were on a man-date. Anyway, moving on.

There were a surprising number of Single Men who came to the KFC buffet on their lunch break, quickly loosening their ties and rolling their sleeves as they heaped chicken upon chicken upon biscuit upon their sagging styrofoam plates. You could always spot them on account of their chicken guts spilling over the top of their pleated khaki pants. The white collar Single Men were very impressive to me, as I can't imagine going back into an office after eating my weight in fried chicken. It's difficult enough sitting alone in a dark basement... my life is almost as awesome.

Anyway, there were a couple of lovely ladies also enjoying a plate or two of chicken, as well as a group of Asian college students who were seemingly having a competition over who could eat the most. The guy sitting directly behind us was a painter, and he took much joy in tearing through a number of chicken breasts - at first with a fork, then he decided to just go for the gold and use his fingers.

However, the piécè de résistance was Single Man with the t-shirt tucked into the jeans and the bluetooth in his ear. This titan of the KFC buffet was a fellow who immediately grabbed two (2) buffet plates, and loaded one up with chicken, and the other up with mac and cheese, potatoes, and corn. He then proceeded to squeeze (yes, this happened because I watched him do it) ten (10) packets of hot sauce onto the concoction, before stirring it all up with a plastic spork. He then proceeded to tear each chicken breast apart (by hand), and use the chicken as a utensil to eat the plate of shit he had just created. Simply incredible - a veritable fast food artist.

I'm certain there's some deep truth to all of this, something that I'm missing. I suppose the folks depicted in my story would take offence to being characterized the way they are - they would probably rightly conclude that they are being judged on a completely arbitrary and capricious occurrence. After all, maybe this was their first time to the KFC buffet in six years too. Any other potential blogger would have looked at me, stuffing my face with mounds of chicken, and come to a similar conclusion: that I led a sad existence. Undoubtedly though, and this is something to be admired, the people who have the bravery, nay courage, to eat at the KFC buffet are people who either have an abiding sense of self worth, or they are very good at faking it. Because you cannot have any shame to eat there.

I feel ashamed though. I thought I was stronger, but the KFC buffet put me in my place. I think I'll have a pear for dinner.