Foreigners at KFC

We got tired of empanadas

This post is for paid subscribers

It was August of 2016 in the Gatwick Airport outside London, and I was pissed.

We’d arrived three weeks earlier in the same airport. As we left security and walked into the main terminal, I made a show of looking around then adopted a John Cleese in Silverado voice and said, “What’s all this then?” My almost 18-year-old s…