The King in the Holy Land - My Family Travels

I stared at it. What stood before me was utterly unexpected and made me reconsider the sanity of the human race. I had always known some of the Israelis were a little out of touch with the rest of the world, but this undoubtedly verified my theory.

          Four meters tall. The tallest on the Earth they claimed. I thought it was some kind of prank set aside to throw off unsuspecting starving tourists. The setting was horrifyingly ironic, the timing made me want to laugh and cry simultaneously—which, quite obviously, could only end in hiccups—and then came the fact that I just could not seem to escape the ultimate absurdity of society. These things were all forgotten when I heard the words which drive entire nations to obesity: French fries.

For two weeks I had been eating Arabic meals that consisted solely of pita bread and concoctions my taste buds were just not ready for. Not to mention my semi-recent conversion to vegetarianism. I am the first to admit that this newfound meatless revelation was in not any conceivable way my brightest idea; especially in a foreign country where there are sure lots of vegetarian options but, of course, none seem to agree with me. Suffice to say, that veggie loving lifestyle was abandoned when I returned home and fried chicken became a reality to me. My deprived stomach grumbled at the thought of it.

Nonetheless, I shook my head at the four meters which represented everything that is wrong with the world as I passed it by and practically skipped into the diner. This was a diner that stood in the middle of Israel; an American diner to be specific. Linoleum tile and ancient history go hand in hand, you know.

          Inside the diner was no better than what stood outside. Everywhere I turned there was something that reminded me of what should have been left back home in America. But the possibility of fries was what brought me here and for fries I would stay.

          It would be generous to say I consumed a mass amount of fries. If you would like a better illustration of what I looked like while eating the fries try one of those Japanese food game shows with the hefty men and a surplus of hot dog wieners. Excepting the fact that I had utensils and a reasonable blob of ketchup on a fry-stacked plate, it was a dead ringer.

After I had satisfied my urgent fry craving, I strolled back outside and posed in front of the statue. I had to have this picture for two reasons: posterity and proof that this actually occurred. I pointed my finger in the air mockingly, cocked my hip, and tried to surrender to the teddy bear with a little less conversation hoping he would love me tender… even if I ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.

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