I’m Willing to Endure Hell on Earth for a Dozen Krispy Kreme Donuts
My father once told me that there is no reward without risk. There is no glory in playing it safe; champions are the product of being willing to put it all on the line. I didn’t completely understand what this meant until I found out that this Friday, July 14th, Krispy Kreme is selling a dozen donuts for 80 cents each.
(Krispy Kreme, for the unfamiliar New Englanders in the room, is like if Dunkin Donuts actually made good donuts.) What makes this deal so sweet (pun intended, bitches) beyond the price point is that Krispy Kreme donuts are so light and airy that a human person of sound body and mind could easily suck down three or four or ten of them without a second thought. They are designed to be consumed in mass quantities.
A dozen for only 80 cents means you could pack in over 20 donuts before lunch, all for less than the cost of your lucky two dollar bill. “Oh but isn’t that unhealthy”, you might moan: “won’t you slip into a diabetic coma from all of that sugar and fried dough?”
To which I would respond: “silence, cowards.”
Everyone knows that Krispy Kreme donuts are widely regarded as part of a healthy and balanced diet (citation needed). In 2017, 80 cents for a dozen donuts is what the American Dream looks like. If you don’t like it, you can get out. But, alas, this is Trumps America (for now), so nothing is easy as it seems. A quick google search shows that there is only one Krispy Kreme in the entire state of New York (!) and it is in (gulp) Penn Station.
I have only lived in New York City for a year, but I can say with complete confidence that Penn Station is the worst fucking place on the entire planet, possibly the universe. It’s filthy and confusing and huge and, for some reason, everyone is always running. Somehow every single person in Penn Station is always late for something and has broken into a full sprint towards their destination.
Filmmakers use stock footage of a typical day at Penn Station for the scene in disaster movies when chaos unfolds and society begins to crumble.
The bathrooms look like a crime scene. Sometimes I get off the subway at Penn Station and start following exit signs before I realize that I have walked 18 blocks underground in the wrong direction. If you’ve ever thought “I feel like those moving staircases at Hogwarts would be really confusing and impractical in real life”, just take a trip to Penn Station; I’m certain the same rotten sorcery is at play there.
The initial pitch for Penn Station was “what if we had all of the worst things about an airport with none of the convenience of actual air travel?” It’s the only place on earth that a human can contract space madness.
But Krispy Kreme donuts are worth it. I’m worth it. So, this Friday, I will travel into the depths of public transportation hell with my father’s advice in mind. I will dodge businessmen in suits running at full speed and avoid families trying to leave the city for the weekend that have already become unhinged as a result of their “quality time”. I will use the bathroom before going in. And, mark my words, I will eat cheap donuts until I go blind and lose sensation in my fingertips.