The American Dream
This also appeals to our aversion to exercise in any form, even if said exercise is done in order to procure sustenance. Fatty, salty, greasy sustenance. That’s another perk of the food court: everything sold there is bad for you. Even the healthy fare is somehow fattified.
Not that fried chicken was ever good for you. Meh, let’s add some bacon, cheese, and miscellaneous fat to it, just for kicks.
Take the salads, for instance. The inventors of food courts hemmed and hawed at the inclusion of salads at places like McDonalds, Sbarro, and Quiznos (or my nomination for best fast food restaurant name, Tomato Destination), so they developed a genius plan for combating those pesky nutrients—add croutons! And cheese! And mayonnaise-based dressing!
Suddenly, salads aren’t so scary
Auntie Anne’s has perfected the art of turning a pretzel into a clogged artery in a bag, and the ubiquitous, generic Chinese/Japanese/Asian stand offers a menagerie of traditional Asian cuisine with the MSG baked right into the food (again, for your convenience).
So you can see why a place with a multitude, a bevy, a myriad, a virtual CORNUCOPIA of these so-called “eateries” is basically the best place on earth. But what about those weird food stands, like Steak Escape and Chicken Now? And WHAT the hell is up with those “Cajun” places that literally sell the same thing as the ambiguously Asian eatery next door?
It’s neither Cajun, nor Sushi! It’s…Cajun Sushi!
Tell me something, Big Easy Cajun: was General Tso from the bayou? Is that free sample of chicken teriyaki on a toothpick from some old southern recipe? IS SUSHI A STAPLE AT MARDI GRAS? And how come the people who work there are clearly castoffs from Panda Express and not, say, Popeye’s?
Cajun sushi—what’s up with that? Would you ever order sushi from a food court?