Place: KFC-Taco Bell
Lunch: Doritos Locos Nacho Cheese Taco Supreme (no tomato), Nachos Supreme (no tomato), extra crispy thigh, Mug Root Beer
I had no idea what to do for lunch today. Nothing sounded good.
("So why didn't you just not eat?")
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
So I headed east on the Interstate, which keeps pretty much every option open, and ultimately decided to take a bit of a drive to the east side to the Kentacobell so I could have nachos and a piece of chicken. Because obviously, I'm pregnant.
I pull into the parking lot, which involves a poorly designed left turn onto a narrow fenced path, then a quick narrow right turn. Except I can't turn right, because a big Suburban is blocking the entrance. No idea why, there's nothing in front of it.
So I go down the path to where the exit is and sneak into the parking lot.
Upon exiting the vehicle, I can see the woman driving the Suburban. What's got her stopped? She's TEXTING. But why park and text when you can block the whole freaking entrance, right?
I go inside. There's thirty (exactly, I counted) kids in front of the counter, along with camp counselors (according to their shirts). Where'd these people come from? There's no bus in the parking lot, and they couldn't have all fit in the Suburban. Then I notice the two Trailways buses parked in the neighboring McDonald's parking lot. Some went there, some came here.
Yay.
But most of them appear to have ordered, so I get in line. Shortly, I'm face-to-face with Frowning Counter Girl.
Me: "One Nacho Cheese Doritos Locos Taco Supreme, no tomato..."
Frowning Counter Girl: "We don't put tomato on that."
Me: "Uh, yes you do."
Frowning Counter Girl: "No we don't."
Co-worker behind her: "Actually, we do."
She doesn't really appear to acknowledge him other than to stare down at the register blankly. He reaches over her shoulder to show her how to input no tomato.
Me: "Nachos Supreme, no tomato..."
She inputs the nachos, then stares at the register again. She's already forgotten how to input no tomato.
Me: "Beef Enchrito..."
Frowning Counter Girl: "We don't have Enchritos anymore."
That makes perfect sense, since there's no unique ingredients to an Enchrito. They have everything on hand to make them.
Me: "Extra crispy thigh, and a medium drink."
Frowning Counter Girl mumbles back the order in gibberish. I have no idea what she's saying. I've already conceded defeat and I'm just going to eat whatever I end up with. And it's clear it won't be what I ordered. Most of the kids and camp counselors are at the counter complaining that their food isn't right. Everybody's missing something, or has the wrong thing, or whatever. The bus driver shouts "CHECK YOUR FOOD BECAUSE THEY DID EVERYTHING WRONG!" at the dining room.
Eventually, my number is called. The chicken piece is missing. They fix that pretty quickly. Everything else is actually correct.
The kids eventually clear the dining room as they head back to the bus. Somebody has left behind a personal effect. An employee notices, grabs another employee, and says "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
Other Employee: "No, I don't like you."
He actually appears serious. But he ends up delivering the item to the bus anyway.
Some Guy in the Kitchen: "That was fun! Let's do it again."
Other Employees: "NO!"
