IJBOLocalypse: I Am High In The Kenmore McDonald’s

By: Ces Lodovico

*(article idea pitched pre-boycott)*

Ahh, the beautiful sights and sounds of the Kenmore McDonald’s on a Friday evening past midnight. The beeping crooning in my ear, the collegiate drunkards making their ways back from a night out – what environment could ever be more beautiful than this? I may be physically present in this establishment, but my mind is very much elsewhere – most likely dwelling on the three hour long YouTube documentary about the entire history of dinosaurs that we had to step away from in order to satiate our munchies. 

And everyone around the Kenmore McDonald’s right now is hilarious. We have a guy who looks like he stepped straight out of 2016 with some fuckass skinny jeans. We have a girlfriend crying outside on the stoop of 7-11 while her boyfriend consoles her and we are eavesdropping as FUCK. Maybe he’s breaking up with her? Maybe he cheated? It’s hard to tell since she’s sobbing and the English language is harder than usual to understand at the moment due to… a particular plant’s effects. We also have a very Reddit looking man whose hair looks as he just paid a visit to the grease vat behind the counter.

And lo and behold, when we thought we had seen all there was to see, here she is. The Queen Mother of the Kenmore McDonalds: a woman with a thick ass Boston accent who is mad as fuck about something and undoubtedly tweaking. She marches in absolutely livid with her friend, who has an even thicker Boston accent and is trying unsuccessfully to subdue her. She’s calling the woman working the register a “jezebel bitch” due to the fact that she only received one sweet and sour sauce before CLIMBING OVER THE COUNTER, all while berating the employees (who are all laughing at this display) to take more sweet and sour sauces and a bunch of large cups which she then fills with Coke, which is most certainly a health and safety violation but I need my fries so I really don’t give a shit. Her yelling and pacing around the room lasts probably about ten minutes and it’s packed as hell so I really don’t GAF.

I make eye contact with her and immediately look away, fearful that a) I may be the next target of her verbal barrage and b) she knows I’m high. I see you queen. I’m tweaking too. But certainly not to that extent. As soon as she’s out of the building, I turn to my friends (who are also high as balls) and utter those four beautiful words: “Well, that just happened!”