They Blew Up The Chicken, Man

In Skokie Last Night*

In every McDonald’s in America right now, there’s a group of old men sitting at a table nursing McCafe tumblers. I don’t know how the golden arches became the hang for the senior citizen set, but they are. I suspect this is because McDonald’s has cheap delicious food and provides a comfortable place to kvetch for hours with your old homies.

While the demographics of these men vary by town, the group is often mostly white. I’m sure some of this is that I inhabit a lot of white spaces, but it also happens a lot here in Chicago where the city is more diverse than the average one-Walmart burg.

The conversations I’ve overheard from some of these groups are usually rooted in a regard for a past that rewarded these folks personally without understanding how those rewards came at a cost to others.

These guys likely chose McDonald’s because, the hottest and one of the better things McD’s ever served, aka spicy chicken McBites, are no longer on the menu.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but absent of religious requirements or serious health implications, the choices about what and how we eat sometimes has darker meaning. For these guys, McDonald’s is a safe space for their tender xenophobic tummies. It hasn’t let them down since Ray Croc installed the first milkshake machines.