Ooops, I Did It Again. . .

Yeah so, I ate McDonald's. Several months ago, I swore that I would never-ever, ever-never spend another hard earned dollar on the crappy, flavorless, heat and serve garbage that they call food. I'll admit, the fries are good, but you can teach a monkey how to fry a potato.


While in Houston, we visited the Houston Natural Science Museum to see an exhibit called BodyWorlds 2 and the Brain. This is the second exhibit featuring real human bodies in various states of dissection that have been preserved through a process called plastination. This process was created by German doctor and scientist Gunther von Hagens in the late 1970's.

I found the exhibit to be fascinating and informative, albeit a bit gruesome and shocking, but I have a fairly scientific view of the world as it is and the morality or lack thereof regarding the use of these bodies did not bother me. Controversy always follows genius it seems.

McDonald's on the other hand. . .was neither fascinating, informative nor genius. It was a bloody zoo! And of the 85,000 fast food restaurants in the United States, McDonald's is the ONLY option in the Houston Natural Science Museum. And leave it to us and our turkey-doped brains to take two children to the museum on the day after Thanksgiving expecting a nice leisurely stroll through our glorious world of nature. Wrong!

Only dinosaurs would of had it easy on a day like that.

Upon arrival at the museum, we noticed, as it was hard not to, that approximately 36.25% of the general population of Houston turned out for the exhibits at the museum. And of that 36.25%, approximately 92.53% of them were brain damaged.


Children, men, women, hermaphrodites, Muslim women in burkas, gay men, babies in strollers, old people in wheelchairs, goths, emos, bulemics, bikers. You name it, it was there. And they all had one thing in common, a generous lack of understanding of simple concepts like: personal space, lines, acceptable public behaviour guidelines.

The line. . .no, wait, it was more like a rhombus. Yes, a rhombus. The rhombus at McDonald's was like all of those concepts shot through a super-colliding, super-conductor and we were left to stand in the aftermath of the atomic explosion. Chaos bubbling about us in the electric ether of the blast.

Pushing. Shoving. Shouting. Butting in line. Screaming. Bumping. Crying. Whining.

Ever seen cows being loaded onto a truck for transportation? The only thing missing was the fact that we were not shitting on each other in the mayhem.

Remarkably, and I hate to heap praise on McDonald's, they were incredibly efficient even under the pressure of the throbbing mass of discombobulated humanity crushing against us. The employees were polite, although loud because they had to be, very business-like and within five minutes we were in and out, food in hand.

Next stop, the drink machine.

At the drink machine, the older couple in front of us who seemed at peace and rather oblivious to the violence around them, took their sweet time administering drinks to themselves. The lady, bless her elderly little heart, even took the time to fill her cup, take three or four large gulps, fill it again, take another, only to fill it a third before shuffling away. I was so mad that I was slowly leaving my body in a zen moment of wanting to kick her dead-square in the middle of her Depends undergarment with my ten and a half foot. But I didn't. . .

. . .as I was brought back to Earth by ruminations and ponderings of this oddity of the food world:

From here, we moved on outside to dine on our steamed hamburgers and pre-fried, quick heated chicken particles.


The kids, so filled with the nutritional equivalent of 8 years worth of artery plaque, were able to stop the rotation of the Earth, even if only for a moment.

And it was in that moment of clarity, of clear thinking and remembrances, when I realized that my Quarter Pounder with cheese resembled and tasted remarkably like this section of great sequoia:

But really, what did I have to complain about? I was here with friends and family, enjoying a day out, learning and broadening the mind. I should be grateful. There are far worse situations to be in. . .


. . .and far worse places to be in. . .


With all that being said, McDonald's, just this once, I forgive you for your past transgressions on my palate. You taught me a lesson about tolerance, acceptance and efficiency. I have no regrets for spending my money in your restaurant and I apologize for saying the monkey could fry a potato as well as you.

I realize now that it takes more than a monkey. . .it takes a mandrill!!!!