Thursday, May 27, 2010

Why I'm through with the entire state of North Carolina

After an 11 hour day in the hostile confines of a Avis rental I arrived at my destination, Asheboro NC. Soon I'd be in the predictable comforts of a Hampton Inn, first I needed some processed fast food in a timely manner. I made my way to the local KFC.

At around 8:52 I enter the parking lot. I circle the building on my way to order via drive through, receive my mediocre dinner and retreat to look over paperwork in the hotel. With about 25 feet to go until the speaker a Suburban with loud music and large spinner rims cuts directly in front of me, I slam on the brakes. At this point a mac book pro and over $2000 of cameras take flight moving towards the dashboard, papers collect in the foot well and a otherwise uneventful day is marked by this country fried asshole who was fixin' to get some chicken on a Thursday night.
Before I could gather why I had a Suburban grill staring me down Jim Bob threw it in reverse and pulled right in front of me laughing all the way to the speaker. On closer inspection he appeared to look like an aging drunk in a car full of cheap hookers. Smoke rolled out of the windows as the passengers loudly discussed what they felt like eating. I considered driving off but this trailer park on wheels was too choice to pass up, is this the real life Roy Mercer or Kenny Powers? I had to investigate further. The driver argued with the speaker about the availability of discontinued promotional specials. As the conversation progressed a total of $64 was ordered.
Apparently this wasn't nearly enough, he pleaded for more food. "Could you get me a couple of cherry turnovers?", no sorry... not this late at night.
"Why can't I get some barbecue chicken" sorry, that was a promotion that is over.
Reluctantly the Suburban pulled up to the window after an unprecedented 8 minutes displaying what ignorance, selfishness and a lack of social graces personifies in one truly miserable human being.

I arrive at the speaker just in time to be greeted by a recording, "The time is now 9:00 and your Asheboro KFC is now closed." At this point I drive around to the honkey tonk on wheels that is the Suburban to greet them with more horn honking, light flashing and profanity than I had ever cared to express to another driver.

The passengers of the Suburban were more than willing to lay down a country whoopin' and one managed to reverse Dukes of Hazard out of the passenger window looking for a fight. At this point I elected to bail on the situation already in progress. I was no match for a local of the Piedmont, jacked up on Cheerwine and riding a fried chicken high it would have been an absolute disaster to stay around any longer. Don't you ever change NC...

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