Staying in Qatar? Try the KFC!!

As everyone knows, I am currently in the middle east, a small country (when I say country, I mean shit-factory) called Qatar. You may ask yourself, "Why , why would you go to such an obviously dangerous part of the world?" Well, it's because my company is paying me a veritable "shit-load" of money to be here and help the U.S. Military with expertly crafted war-planning software.

I am trying to save some of this "shit-load", and the military provides food on base for free, so I try to eat on base whenever possible, however, when I wake up and get ready for work, I am ravenous, and there is no dining facility open when I get to work. So, for the last 3 days I have stopped at KFC on the way into the base to get something to eat. I get there at the same time every night I have gone there, and there has been the same individual at the counter to take my order, I call him Habib. One thing about KFC in the middle east, there is no normal menu. There is only one of those "value" menu's. So when I say that the choices are limited, I mean it. I am sure that I could order "ala carte", but the logistics involved in getting that information to Habib causes me to get headaches.

Normally at KFC, I like to get a 3 piece meal with breasts only (mmmm breasts). I know I have to pay extra for the breasts, but in my mind, it is worth it (like I said, mmmm breasts). Anyways, there is no 3 piece "value" meal at this particular KFC, and Habib has the English vocabulary of an infant (its better than nothing, and way better than the jerks in Saudi Arabia). Using my quick wits, I decide that it is going to be difficult to parlay what I want to this person, so I decide to go for the light chicken strips meal, which by the way, has no number, just a picture. Every other meal has a number, but the one I want is numberless, such is life for me in this middle east terror facility. The chicken strips meal is only 9 Qatar Riyals, about $2.50. Very cheap. I approach the counter hoping that Habib will understand me enough to not mistake light chicken strips for deep fried camel anus, which by the way, is something I am sure they do as a free service, for foreigners who do not speak the language.

Habib: Hello sir, takaruuf habiyyah salwa al waab?

Me (thinking that he asked me for my order): Yeah, I would like the light chicken strips meal.

Habib: Ah yes, my friend, of course, Dukham al umm bab arrayyan spicy or mild thankyouplease?

Me (slowly taking in what he said, thinking he might have said "deep fried camel something"): ummmm, hmmmm, ummm, oh, yeah, spicy

Habib: oh, very well sir, wakra al sailiyakhawr?

Me: uhhhhhh

Habib (talking louder and slower): WAKRA AL SAILIYA-KHAWR???

Me (louder and slower): Uhhhhhhhhhh....

Habib (even louder): Wakra al sailiyakhawr...pepsi?

Me (relieved): Oh, Pepsi, yeah, diet Pepsi

Habib: umm bab arrayyan here or to go?

Me: To go please...

Habib proceeded to gather my items and then presented then to me with great enthusiasm as if doing this for me meant that I now have to milk his goat (when I say "milk his goat" I mean actually milk his goat. "Milk his goat" is not a euphemism for anything you sick perverts). I paid him and checked my meal as I left. Whew, no camel anus. I am somewhat sure that it was chicken, it tasted like chicken, but then again, what doesn't taste like that?

Since this first time I went, it has gone much smoother. I really do not have to talk at all, cause he knows me. I just nod and point. I am apparently his best friend now. When I go in there, he shakes my hand and tells me I am his friend. I am making friends all over...unless he expects me to milk his goat...