Micky D's

I wrote this a month or so ago when coming home from college. I'm not sure if it's really finished or not, but I'm posting it here for the sake of explaining the recent irony. I thought it was funny and satirical, but now I have a newfound appreciation for Mcdonalds.

Coming home from a semester of stress for winter break, I was driving down Interstate-90 with country pastures to my left and forests on gridlocked land to my right. Peaking out from a cluster of trees was a golden glow, the emblematic arch that sways travelers off their designated path towards gluttonous treasure. That’s when it hit me. BAM. It was so appalling and obvious I simultaneously laughed and grunted, a chortle that came out like a stifled sneeze.
McDonald’s is America’s church. It’s what we worship once a week (at least). If we knew who to pray to it would be Epicurus for starting the trend that makes sinful pleasures cool. Worshipping the guy who allowed us to commercialize and capitalize on something that clogs our arteries and leads to heart disease. Instead of looking for the glowing cross in the distance in times of salvation (or starvation,) we look for the yellow arch, the universal sign of trans fats and obesity. This steeple of burger land is an omnipresent being and also a quintessential American representation worldwide. NOTHING shouts America louder than this company’s logo.
In this sense our food of faith has become a global phenomenon. For the rest of the world, it’s like the tribal religions in Africa, an isolated concept everyone knows about, but does not necessarily take part in. The rest of the world doesn’t get it. They understand our country is made up of greedy, overweight middle aged men who frequent Micky D’s, but they don’t get why. Only the American, the patriotic mcnuggeter, can truly get it.

So why is my criticism of America and McDonald's ironic now? Well, driving back to college my car broke down and my central locale on two occasions was McDonald's. I was stuck in a small town with a garage that my car was stuck at and down the road was a McDonald's, the only other commercial sight around. My aunt and uncle rescued me here--"oh ok, the McDonald's right off the exit, yeah we can pick you up there." Then, my friends picked me up near their house met us at a McDonald's. I guess the glow of the arches does come in handy for more than just a rumbling stomach.