Student Bloggers

Last week, I broke. For the first time since leaving the States, I ate at McDonald's.

I won’t pretend to be the type of person who’s above McDonald's in my everyday life—quite the contrary, in fact. At home, McDonald's branded ‘Fancy Ketchup’ runs through my very veins. But here in Italy, I was going to be above McDonald's. I was going to be better than their deep fried taste bud seduction. I would be elegant, educated—European. But there I was, my butt asleep on the steps outside of the Piazza di Spagna Dior (I was stealing their wifi) when the sweet, sweet smell of deep fried American freedom drifted towards me. Like a crisp fall breeze coming off the mountains of Colorado, like the sound of the ocean on the shores of Waikiki, like the crack of an American flag against its flagpole, McDonald's called me home. 

In the name of research, I got a double cheeseburger, a large fry, a coke, and a chocolate milkshake. But to the disappointment of my taste buds (and the salvation of my skinny jeans) European McDonald's portion sizes are much smaller than American portion sizes! Shockingly smaller! To be fair, I am never satisfied with a culinary experience unless the slab of beef I’m consuming is bigger than my head, but I still feel a little bit like I got gypped out of a happy meal toy.

The food itself was delicious. If you’re looking for a lesson in corporate consistency, hit up a McDonald's—pick your location, they’re all around the world and the food is almost always the same. There’ll be some small menu variations—for instance, I had never seen a Crispy McBacon McChicken before, and was too much of a McChicken myself to give it a go. And what could a McItaly possibly be? I didn’t ask, but in my personal heaven it would just be spaghetti on a sesame seed bun.

In the end, I ate my meal, got up, and returned to Piazza di Spagna to continue stealing wifi while I waited for my class to start. And for the first time in my life McDonald's betrayed me. Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten much all day, maybe it was because I hadn’t had fast food in two months, or maybe it was just because my stomach was feeling spiteful, but my gut started to rumble. And then it started to gurgle. And then I had a sinking feeling because—horror of horrors—I was sitting on the Spanish Steps. I wanted to leave my mark on Rome, but not this way! My God, any way but this.

You’ll be glad to hear that with some quick thinking, I saved my pants, my pride, and the Spanish Steps from needing a serious power wash. For the record, I regret nothing. Like a bodybuilder missing a workout just before Mr. Universe, I needed to prepare myself before I attempted to choke down my usual load of cholesterol. If this proves anything, it proves that if you’re going to eat at McDonald's you should do so regularly and with consistent vigor!