One understands that a large part of living in Williamsburg consists of wanting to see and be seen. And yet, this hard-to-avoid reality still doesn’t really excuse a “man’s” inexplicable desire to spend his easily earned money on roast chicken from a self-declared “casual” restaurant.
For the price of $42, one could probably procure a fantastic blow job, or even a pair of fairly long-lasting shoes. Somehow, spending this rather exorbitant sum on chicken just doesn’t seem logical–in fact, it’s safe to say that no matter how much money a “man” makes, there is something commit to mental institution-worthy about dropping $42 on chicken. Popeyes, undoubtedly, probably makes a more satisfying chicken than the kind offered at Llama Inn (especially since there’s no better tasting food than the kind you eat whilst wasted). And yet, half the joy for Williamsburg “men” in going out is proving how much they’ve got in their wallet. It is not about procuring true pleasure, but rather true pain–the latter of which can’t be soothed by a few fried potatoes on the side.