Found at: Morrisons
In the years I spent out and about in the adult world, I had forgotten just how social school-life is. I had happily gotten myself happily ensconced in the comfortably formal work relationships and increasingly distant friend relationships that define millennial early adulthood. And, being somewhat introverted by nature, I was not as overly bothered by the solitude. So, it was not long after arriving back at school after these years of “the big drift,” that I found myself completely overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people suddenly and prominently in my life.
This was doubly true during the holiday season. There were holiday parties and movie nights and more Christmas cheer than I was used to. I felt completely unprepared for the onslaught of the sights and sounds of the Yuletide season.
And as if that were not enough, there were the Roasted Chicken chips. I bought them with a general expectation of a salty, savory chip: something like a crispier chicken-in-a-biscuit. But these chips do not approximate the taste of herbed chicken: exactly replicated the taste of herbed chicken, and the experience was deeply confusing. My mouth said “chip” and my tongue said “chicken” and my mind wondered if science really has gone too far this time. I passed them around the holiday party, and each person who tried one was equally baffled. What was this thing that I had offered them? And why did it exist at all? We looked at each other with the universal looks of the overwhelmed. For each of us, it was a unique breaking point: after all the sugary treats and illuminated windows and “Last Christmas” renditions spilling into every retail environment, the chip-that-should-be-chicken was a bridge too far.
And in each of our secret hearts, we wondered how to retreat back into our own introverted spheres: safe at last from the novelties and jollities of the holidays. Safe at last from roasted chicken and thyme chips.