Actually, it was the third McDonalds trip for me. I had a particularly awful Big Mac in the Paris airport. Fast food in Europe is terribly uncanny. It's like if you came home from school one day and your Mom had a mustache; something's not quite right. They make some shit-awful attempts at new menu items. Case in point: McDonalds' BBQ chicken wrap that I ordered last night in Bologna. Chicken-foam ensconced in cold diced onions and too-sweet BBQ sauce, all wrapped up into the dryest, most tasteless excuse for a tortilla I've ever ingested. Truly the worst fast food experience of my life. However, we were terrifically entertained by the couple sitting behind us. It was an interesting pairing: thick, foine-ass black girl (which was exotic- we've run into very few black people that aren't Wesley-Snipes-dark North Africans that wanted to sell us plastic Eiffel Towers/kill us on this trip) and a sleazy looking Italian wearing a leather bomber jacket. The Italian dude was attempting to provide his beau with the illustrious history of his eveningwear. An excerpt:
"Thees jacket, is from war. Flyers, eh, American aeroplane, pilot of aeroplane wear jacket. It very expensive, cost six-haundred euro. I know owner, so I get it for five-haundred. Still is expensive."
Nubian Goddess nodded and half-smiled. The international sign of disinterest.
-JZ
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