Airport Chili’s – The Restaurant of Last Resort

Sometimes the Bastard winds up in some airport for a layover for a few hours and needs to blow some time. If there aren’t any titty bars near by, I wander the airport, gazing angrily at the shops and fast food joints. Sometimes, if the Bastard is particularly exhausted and the choices at that airport are particularly crappy, I’ll wander into a Chili’s.

I must be particularly exhausted to wander into a Chili’s because otherwise I’d remember that I fucking hate Chili’s. I’d remember that I despise their high tables sandwiched virtually on top of one another. I’d remember that I hate their shitty selection of crap bar-fare on their greasy menus. If I wasn’t half-dazed I’d remember that their beer selection is for shit and their heavily-advertised blender drinks apparently contain no alcohol. I’d remember that their decor is hackneyed 80’s Friday’s/Bennigan’s/Crapplebee’s with a layer of grease on top. I would remember that the food that arrives at the table is always crap.

White-trash gourmands say that you can make any food better by frying it. Chili’s has taken this mantra to heart with virtually their whole menu, yet they seem to be the only restaurant in existence that can make food shittier by frying it. Their soups – watery. Their salads, lacking in veggie variety (to say nothing of the dressings that all taste like ranch). At any price, Chili’s would be a ripoff. Chili’s fucking sucks.

Lesson: No matter how far you have to walk to find an alternative dining establishment, it’s close enough.