KFC

As of today, I am actually 100% done with my work for the term. I celebrated by joining the UK Blockbuster (1st video was free! Prince Caspian) and doing loads and loads of laundry. 2 loads.

I also went to KFC for dinner last night, which deserves further comment:

Since I went to Kentucky that one time to see the aquarium, Kentucky seems much more personally relevant to me. Now when I walk into a UK KFC, I feel a certain sense of ownership. These Brits don't know Kentucky; I know Kentucky. It has fish. And an airport that I have to use to get to Cincinnati. And an eclectic art store located in a repurposed church, which my mom likes.

Needless to say, British KFC doesn't have any of these things. It does have some redeeming qualities though. First of all, it's open until ridiculous hours of the night. That's good for those of us who forget to eat dinner until we get really hungry at midnight and need fried chicken. They serve Pepsi instead of Coke, and while I prefer Coke, it's nice to have some variety in the Coke-centred UK environment. (On a side note, they don't give ice with soft drinks. One time I asked for ice, and they brought me an entire cup of ice with its own lid. I know some people who would like a cup of ice, but I just wanted cold soda. I'm not sure what they think would happen if the soda and the ice were combined in the restaurant.)

Finally, the hilarious moment that prompted this post. I walked into KFC wearing my Brown hoodie yesterday, and while I was waiting for my food the cashier looked at me and said, "So...you ehm, really like Brown?" I thought this was a weird question, but basically assented. He gave me a funny look, and said something in a language I didn't understand to the other employees. (No, not because of an accent. Like many parts of America, Oxford somehow finds foreigners to work in every fast food restaurant even though there is basically no diversity on the street otherwise).

I can't remember exactly how the conversation progressed, but he thought I was wearing a sweatshirt with BROWN emblazoned on it in red letters because I support Gordon Brown. It was kind of awkward. I realized in hindsight that it would be kind of weird if someone walked up to me wearing a shirt that said BUSH or OBAMA in huge letters. Also, it confirmed my sneaking suspicion that nobody here has heard of Brown. Oh well.

I think that's everything about fried chicken. I'd like to conclude by making it clear that I will allow no extrapolation from this post to the amount of times I've eaten at KFC in England. The dining hall at college closed for break, a turn of events I did not anticipate.

To stop your attempts to reconstruct my eating habits, I will distract you with this picture of the British National Gallery:

Ha! Now I seem cultured again. Phew...