I just arrived in Houston for a somewhat long layover at the beginning of my latest work trip. I left the plane with that wrong feeling that comes from about two hours sleep after two Jim Beam and ginger ales. I decided that food was my best bet and knowing that my next flight would depart from gate E19 I headed in that general direction. I arrived at a familiar George HW Bush Intercontinental Airport alcove that contains a Wendy's franchise. The food available here seemed like almost the exactly perfect thing to put in my belly given the condition that I found myself in.
So I guess part of this might be a bit like a restaurant review. My contact with the staff was so brief I almost couldn't believe that it had actually occurred. The person in line ahead of me (at 5:45 AM on Labor Day there was only one) gave me just enough time to choose an item from the menu. I decided that a fried chunk of chicken on a biscuit would be ideal to soak up the bourbon and ginger ale poison that I had consumed only a few hours earlier.
When my turn came I asked for the number 7 with hash browns and orange juice. I had just barely placed my money on the counter when each item of my order lay in front of me, most of it (all except the small carton of orange juice) neatly concealed in a small paper bag. The food actually beat my change. Some supernatural connection between the register and the cooking station must exist. It's either that or the young woman preparing the food could hear me. The young woman who brought out the food asked me if I'd like any ketchup. I said yes and in that I had noticed that one of the bins behind the counter contained hot sauce, I asked for some of that as well. Less than two seconds later several packets of each condiment had joined my food in the bag and I was on my way, chugging the orange juice as I walked. The water and sugar made me feel better immediately and by the time I found a seat in the gate area (where I type now) I found myself ready to eat.
I rarely eat fast food now, but there was a time when food like this made up a significant portion of my diet. Comparing how I felt then (sluggish - yeah - that's the word) to how I feel now, I think I made the right choice when I decided that I would avoid it most of the time. This experience did nothing to change my mind.
I pulled the top of the biscuit off of the chicken chunk, tore a corner off the hot sauce packet, squirted a couple of drops and took a bite. The first word that comes to mind is DRY. The difference in mouth feel between the chicken and the biscuit was barely discernible. Both were DRY. One was slightly more dense and chewy -- I'm guessing it was the chicken. I could be wrong, but almost everything about this experience was wrong. In an effort to improve my experience I removed the top of the biscuit once more and squirted some more hot sauce onto the chicken chunk (I couldn't taste it at all before). I took another bite and experienced the exact same dryness punctuated by a bit of very weak hot sauce flavor (I use the word flavor generously). I choked the rest of the little sandwich down as quick as I could and moved on to the hash browns.
Wendy's serves it's hash browns in little coins. I must say that I prefer the honest large ovals of McDonald's. The large ovals seem to be more crisp and they definitely have more flavor. They also seem to hold heat better. In my attempts to improve my chicken biscuit experience I had allowed my hash brown coins to cool to the point where they held very little heat at all. If they were warm, at least I could say they were warm. I cannot even say that. I didn't even bother with the ketchup. I just choked them down.
That's really all I have to say about eating at the Houston Airport Wendy's. I deserve exactly what I got and no more. I really need to stop drinking on airplanes and allowing myself to make nutrition choices in the unfortunate condition that follows such behavior.
Part II
A Random Thought About Wendy's
My recent breakfast experience has caused me to think a bit about the concept of Wendy's in general.
Thought 1: What's it like to work at the airport Wendy's as opposed to a Wendy's location out in the world?
The airport Wendy's is not a destination. I can't imagine that many people, departing a plane in Houston are thinking "Wow - I can't wait to get to that Wendy's". I imagine that most patrons of this particular Wendy's are like me: in some sort of ill-health (physical, mental or both) due to their recent or impending air travel and they stumble toward the Wendy's line without putting much thought into it at all. The Wendy's locations out in the world, however are destinations. People go there on purpose. They plan it. They say "I'm going to Wendy's." They say that. They say it out loud in front of people.
I wonder if airport Wendy's employees ever meet up with out in the world Wendy's employees and discuss the differences in the two ways of life. I bet they each think there own location is a harder place to work.
"You don't even have a drive-thru!"
"Oh yeah? You ever had to feed the entire Lithuanian national soccer team that just got off flight 3737?"
This is the type of argument I imagine them having.
This is the type of crap I type when I've slept two hours and am waiting to fly some more.
Thanks for playing.
Labels: FOOD, Random, Travel
