9/24/2011
Ok, Patricia. Laura and I voted and we don’t think you really came here. This is one of your most whacked-out entries. Even though the entry is entitled “The Land of Colonel Sanders” the content is all about the World Chicken Festival which you make sound ludicrously awesome. Even Laura was excited about going here because it wasn’t a Civil War battlefield for once. The whole idea is that since Colonel Sanders started Kentucky Fried Chicken sort of close by a festival to all things wonderful about the chicken would be apropos. Except that isn’t what it is at all. It’s one blocked off street with all your typical temporary tattoo dream catcher garbage. The only things chicken-related are the world’s largest skillet (which looks more unimpressive than it even sounds) and a guy walking around dressed like Colonel Sanders. A major disappointment. Someone with the slightest imagination could turn this into the kooky event that was promised. I always try to find something good to say about everywhere we go, but this was a complete waste of time.
Before we headed home we tried to salvage things a little bit by driving over to nearby Corbin, the location of the original and still operating Kentucky Fried Chicken. Basically, it’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken like any other, but with a nice and simple museum inside. Bizarrely, this was more interesting than the festival. The food was just like every other Kentucky Fried Chicken, except now that I think about it all the other Kentucky Fried Chickens are really like this one. I think I just blew my fast-food fuelled brain. I was on “don’t let the bad men steal our children” duty, so Laura ordered the food and she says the service was really bad – so somewhere the Colonel is crying extra crispy tears.
After our arteries were sufficiently clogged I took Daniel and Philip to look at the museum, while Laura fed Kathleen. Colonel Sanders’ original kitchen still stands and is protected by Plexiglas – a substance Daniel and Philip thought was for banging on as loudly as possible. Philip also managed to stick his hand in between two slats of glass in an attempt to grab a display. I stopped him just in time to see Daniel run off towards a set of antique coffee cups. I stopped him too, but he later managed to open another display case of artifacts. Rather than killing our children at a historic landmark we decided now was the best time to leave. Once outside Daniel picked up a stone and threw it at the window! He missed. Despite our best efforts, the original Kentucky Fried Chicken still stands for future generations to enjoy.
From Laura: The festival was an epic failure. I was prepared to be entertained, but was not. Apparently all the ‘good stuff’ took place on Friday [like who would take a day off to attend this thing?], so we got to see the endless booths filled with ugly purses, clothes made in China, cheap jewelry, fair food, insurance/bank/health care recruiters and don’t forget the freshly squeezed lemonade!! That was about it. There wasn’t much Kentucky flavor there, either. Everyone seemed pretty uncaring about the place, if you ask me. And the skillet? FYI, it doesn’t look like a skillet. It was more like a swimming pool full of bubbling oil. They could have at least put a handle on it.
I actually enjoyed the KFC museum more than the festival, and I think it was because the museum also had a restaurant. But now that I think about it, I am more than a little irritated that we drove a total of 8 hours to eat at a KFC, while there is one about a block from our house. Anyway, I would give the service about a C. You think it would have been better with all the tourists who visit that place. Because we did not get our biscuits that came with the meal [mistake #1], I had to stand in line for another 20 minutes [mistake #2]. Can I mention that this is supposed to be fast food? Once I finally got to the front counter, the teenage girls, combined with the I-hate-my-life-because-I-work-here attitude and the seven layers of makeup, decided to completely ignore my presence at the counter [mistake #3]. After another five minutes of standing there, a girl from the back finally came up and asked me what I needed. They seemed startled when I screamed at them. Hey, I used to work fast food so I have sympathy for drones, but I can’t just go back there and get the biscuits myself. Oh well. Let’s get back in the car and listen to Elmo for another four hours.
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