eater.com – At 3 in the morning on Christmas Eve, my mother woke up shaking and unable to breathe. After several minutes of trying to calm her down, we pulled on our coats and filed into the damp December night, hoping to flag a taxi. We caught one outside of a 24/7 convenience store, hailed it with wildly flailing arms, then piled in. On the way to the hospital, my sister and I held my mother’s hands in the back of the car, rubbing tiny concentric circles into her back.
My family had arrived in Japan earlier that day to visit my grandparents, and it turns out that emergency rooms feel the same in Japan as they do everywhere else: The lighting is garish, the waiting interminable, the vending machine sparsely stocked. Next to us, a miserable-looking girl with an intestinal infection vomited quietly into a plastic bag every few minutes. Everything seemed vaguely grimy and overexposed. A few hours and a barrage of tests later, my mother emerged from the examination room while a young doctor explained that it was most likely a panic attack.
Bone-tired, eyes blinking away a grainy film, our bodies heavy and sluggish, it didn’t feel like Christmas Eve at all. But then we remembered Kentucky Fried Chicken. For years, like many Japanese people, my family has eaten fried chicken on Christmas Eve, but this year was different: Instead of generic supermarket fried chicken, for the first time ever, we had reserved a coveted KFC Christmas Barrel.
Another very dope article from Eater! BTW I don’t appreciate the slander that KFC catches ….held me and my family down many a nights in my youth.