McDonald’s Clarion, PA - A Critical Review
Naturally grey and brown irregular ground beef disks casually balanced on a baked leaven cake, speckled with sesame seeds and a hot squirt of loose yellow mustard. Pickles if you want em’ or not, and a handful of reconstituted onions. Flick a square of processed American cheese on there and you have the no-nonsensical cheeseburger made famous by the family friendly multinational corporate megalith you've all been indoctrinated to love. It’s a shame there's no time to get into the weeds of McDonald's lore but this is supposed to be a fast food restaurant review after all. Although every building within eyesore of Clarion, PA has one, the American flag aggressively waving above the McDonald's drive through parking lot is by far the largest of all and visible from two towns over. In the cross shadows of the golden arches and shimmering stars and stripes, I stood silently for a moment to take in all the quintessential Americana. Inside the double door entrance, the place was packed and there was a line for the Mctoilet. As a simple analog man lost in a digital world, I hesitated to interact with the AI powered ordering kiosk. Finally scrolling through a menu of infinite choices, I punched in the code for a tall black coffee. The staff behind the counter were a lean skeleton crew of high-school girls and divorced middle-aged moms, neither of whom appeared all too delighted to have made the particular life choices that resulted in a faded Mickey D's uniform and a Sunday afternoon lunch shift. Gone are the days of smiling faced, “Can I take your order please”. Gone are the days of super-size fries and a bit of sass from a regular neighborhood face behind the counter. We have become an automated nation with no patience and somehow everyone here seems fine with that. We may all crave the human touch, but I bet we'd all shake hands on the understanding that it's just not viable or financially profitable. In the wise and immortal words of 1980’s musical poet J. Biafra, “Give me convenience, or give me death."
Behind me sat an elderly man with his daughter, or daughter in law who, after a 20-minute wait for a strawberry milkshake and an eight-piece chicken McNugget meal had grown increasingly tested in their incredible forbearance. Several centuries ago, the old man could have passed as a holy Roman inquisitor or a surly classical opera critic. His immediate appearance gave me the impression that I was in the presence of Gargamel from the Smurfs, if he were to have undergone intensive chemotherapy and then went on to live another one hundred and twenty years. Formed upon the bald spot atop his head, between the ragged front tuft and mullet length side hairs were various warts and boils. Pustules in various conditions ranging from unusually colored blue to popped and seeping from underneath tiny dime store band aids. I could look no longer and turned away my eyes to search for anyone else of note to report.
As the ornery packed crowd quickly grew to both seated and standing capacity during my visit, there were no other notable or comically outstanding lookers in the bunch. I was becoming impatient for my coffee and after another 15 minutes of waiting, I ultimately left the establishment unsatisfied and un-caffeinated with a $3.45 hole in my wallet. As I crossed over the exit curb, sidestepping a pile of big mac puke in the parking lot, a tangible sorrow swept over me. An empathetic tug on the old heart chain for those poor souls I had just left behind on the consumer battlefield. Who am I to judge the character of a town based on a short rest stop adventure to a Pennsylvania McDonald's? I'm the New York Art Critic that's who. So, with a salute to the giant flag and a flipped bird to the arches, I slid back into the cockpit of my 1978 AMC Concord four door, reversed out of the parking lot, and put the petal to the metal.
McDonald's- Clarion, PA two stars. One for the clean Mctoilet and one out of pity for the all-female staff barely keeping it together one cheeseburger at a time.