I'm reading "Fast Food Nation" which is a highly disturbing book.
One section of it examines the marketing and promotion MacDonalds does to get people to but food. The author points out a specific Happy Mean Deal with which I had a bizarre first-hand experience.
It's June 4th, 1998. I'm driving from Camden, New Jersey to upstate New York with my friend, Damon. We just finished competing in the Intercollegiate championships, so we're exhausted.
We have to cut through some backwoods areas of New Jersey to get to our destination, avoiding all that industrial nastiness that people associate with the Garden State.
My friend and are starving, and this a the time when we consumed about 10,000 calories a day just to stay above skinny, so fast food didn't have the kryptonite-like effects it does now (diminished strength, sluggishness, etc.).
So we pull over at a MacDonald's to grab a bite.
And this is where the weirdness begins.
I already feel like I'm on a vision quest because I've been competing for three days non-stop in the punishing heat, but now weve unknowingly entered the town of Twilight Zone, NJ. Combine that with the surreality that surrounds being in a entirely plastic environment, and you have a volatile recipe for complete and total bizaare-osity.
For some reason, this MacDonalds is packed. Three lines have formed, all reaching near to the back of the restaurant. Im waiting in line #2 while my friend parks the car. After I stan zombie-like for a few minutes, a woman walks up to me and without hesitation says,
Hi, were not going to eat these Happy Meals, and I thought that you might want them.
For a moment I dont even know how to respond. I just stare at her with my best blank expression; trying my hardest not to betray the fact that I think this woman is nuts. As my train of thought careens madly down the tracks, it even occurs to me that this lady has poisoned this food and I am to be the victim of some community sacrifice a la The Wicker Man.
I respond, slowly.
Yeah, sure. I guess. You dont want it?
Oh, no. I just bought it so I could get the Beanie Baby.
I have no idea what shes talking about, but my desire to get out of this conversation overrides my curiosity, so I nod, say okay, and take the food.
After she walks away, I say to the people in line around me who have just witnessed the whole exchange, Man, can you believe that lady?
Thats when this huge guy dressed in a heavy plaid shirt, demin overalls and work boots turns to me and says, Thats what were all here for. The Beanie Babies.
Anyone see The Usual Suspects? Remember at the end when the police detective stares at the bulletin board, puts the evidence together, and comes to the shocking conclusion?
Thats pretty much what happens with me right then in that MacDonalds. I look at the signs above the counter, put it all together, and think Oh My God. (But my hamburger isnt made by Kobayashi, nor do I drop it).
So it turns out MacDonalds is giving away a limited edition Beanie Baby with every Happy Meal. This is during the height of Beanie Baby madness, so people are buying the food just to get the toy. It is a sad step for mankind, but a giant leap for capitalism.
When my friend comes in, I explain to him that we were caught in some sort of reverse black hole of reality that expels all logic from its midst. But, it is a black hole filled with free cheeseburgers and fries, so why not enjoy it?
Word must have got around, because while we are sitting down, more people come to us with Happy Meals they dont want now that the treasured Bean-Bag animals have been extricated.
It was as if we had stumbled into some ancient culture and they, unfamiliar with our hunger-motivated food buying, had made us their new gods. Our subjects lay many an offering upon our red and white plastic altar, and we take them up happily. A fast-food symbiosis.
Some woman even argues with her kid because the child exclaimes Hey! I want the fries! as she attempts to hand them over to us. We leave right after that, having gained our fill of heart-stopping goodness.
It was easily one of the oddest experiences of my life. Had the Children of the Corn walked into that place, they would have thought "Dude, this is fucked up."
One section of it examines the marketing and promotion MacDonalds does to get people to but food. The author points out a specific Happy Mean Deal with which I had a bizarre first-hand experience.
It's June 4th, 1998. I'm driving from Camden, New Jersey to upstate New York with my friend, Damon. We just finished competing in the Intercollegiate championships, so we're exhausted.
We have to cut through some backwoods areas of New Jersey to get to our destination, avoiding all that industrial nastiness that people associate with the Garden State.
My friend and are starving, and this a the time when we consumed about 10,000 calories a day just to stay above skinny, so fast food didn't have the kryptonite-like effects it does now (diminished strength, sluggishness, etc.).
So we pull over at a MacDonald's to grab a bite.
And this is where the weirdness begins.
I already feel like I'm on a vision quest because I've been competing for three days non-stop in the punishing heat, but now weve unknowingly entered the town of Twilight Zone, NJ. Combine that with the surreality that surrounds being in a entirely plastic environment, and you have a volatile recipe for complete and total bizaare-osity.
For some reason, this MacDonalds is packed. Three lines have formed, all reaching near to the back of the restaurant. Im waiting in line #2 while my friend parks the car. After I stan zombie-like for a few minutes, a woman walks up to me and without hesitation says,
Hi, were not going to eat these Happy Meals, and I thought that you might want them.
For a moment I dont even know how to respond. I just stare at her with my best blank expression; trying my hardest not to betray the fact that I think this woman is nuts. As my train of thought careens madly down the tracks, it even occurs to me that this lady has poisoned this food and I am to be the victim of some community sacrifice a la The Wicker Man.
I respond, slowly.
Yeah, sure. I guess. You dont want it?
Oh, no. I just bought it so I could get the Beanie Baby.
I have no idea what shes talking about, but my desire to get out of this conversation overrides my curiosity, so I nod, say okay, and take the food.
After she walks away, I say to the people in line around me who have just witnessed the whole exchange, Man, can you believe that lady?
Thats when this huge guy dressed in a heavy plaid shirt, demin overalls and work boots turns to me and says, Thats what were all here for. The Beanie Babies.
Anyone see The Usual Suspects? Remember at the end when the police detective stares at the bulletin board, puts the evidence together, and comes to the shocking conclusion?
Thats pretty much what happens with me right then in that MacDonalds. I look at the signs above the counter, put it all together, and think Oh My God. (But my hamburger isnt made by Kobayashi, nor do I drop it).
So it turns out MacDonalds is giving away a limited edition Beanie Baby with every Happy Meal. This is during the height of Beanie Baby madness, so people are buying the food just to get the toy. It is a sad step for mankind, but a giant leap for capitalism.
When my friend comes in, I explain to him that we were caught in some sort of reverse black hole of reality that expels all logic from its midst. But, it is a black hole filled with free cheeseburgers and fries, so why not enjoy it?
Word must have got around, because while we are sitting down, more people come to us with Happy Meals they dont want now that the treasured Bean-Bag animals have been extricated.
It was as if we had stumbled into some ancient culture and they, unfamiliar with our hunger-motivated food buying, had made us their new gods. Our subjects lay many an offering upon our red and white plastic altar, and we take them up happily. A fast-food symbiosis.
Some woman even argues with her kid because the child exclaimes Hey! I want the fries! as she attempts to hand them over to us. We leave right after that, having gained our fill of heart-stopping goodness.
It was easily one of the oddest experiences of my life. Had the Children of the Corn walked into that place, they would have thought "Dude, this is fucked up."
I read FF Nation.