I'm an unapologetic snob, even when it comes to fast food. Consider last night's discussion with June-chan about dinner. June-chan wanted to go to Jack In The Box. I countered with a suggestion to go to In-N-Out. We somehow moved from hamburgers to fried chicken as our white trash entree of choice. I told her I was craving Popeyes Chicken & Biscuits, whose nearest franchised restaurant was a couple of miles from her house. She said KFC was only three blocks away. I told her that I would provide door-to-door service from her house to Popeyes if she were too lazy and hungry to travel outside of her zip code. So I sped to her house from where I was, called when I was in front of her apartment building, unlocked the passenger car door to let her in and chauffeured her to Popeyes in Santa Monica. The restaurant was so ghetto that the restaurant manager hung the framed Mardi Gras posters diagonally so that the varied angle would add some class. But, damn, that was some good chicken.
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