Since arriving here in Toronto, we have been bombarded with terrible service and strange, freaky people.

Yesterday Neil went into a KFC. So, okay, this is not the pinnacle of sophistication. That said, you'd think you would be able to order some fried chicken and go on your merry old way. This is what happened:

Minute 1
Neil enters KFC, 2-3 customers in front of him.
Minute 1.15 - 10
Man at the front of the line:
"How big is the small salad?" Clerk goes to the back to grab the container.
"How big is the medium salad?" Clerk goes to the back to grab the container.
"How big is the large salad?" Clerk goes to the back to grab the container.
"How big is the Twister Sandwich?" Clerk goes to the back, brings back the cook, they describe the size.
"How big is the popcorn chicken?" Clerk goes to the back to grab the container.
"How big are buckets of chicken?" Clerk goes to the back to grab the container.
"How big is my brain?" Clerk says, "tiny just like your penis." (Okay -- I added this one)

Then he starts yelling at the clerk to speak English. Neil says that it was obvious to all that English was the clerk's first language.

We don't know how this ended because Neil left at this point. He'd seen enough. Personally, I'd have pulled up a chair - you can't make this shit up!