I apologize in advance to anyone who actually thinks Guy Fieri is a cool dude (and also disown you), but I can't seem to get around that mid-90s-Offspring look. I'd like to see him separated (Hey! Come out and play!), you know, like drawn and quartered? Spikey bleachy hair notwithstanding, my options for food and drink in the terminal were limited, but who am I kidding? Even with the spokes-douche* on the cover of the menu, I'm a sucker for chain restaurants.
As my wife and I have learned time and again, chain restaurants are only good for appetizers and desserts. Heeding that sage advice, I went with the pork ravioli bites, stuffed, breaded, and fried pasta with a BBQ dipping sauce (note the impeccable presentation). The pork filling has the texture of Totino's pizza rolls, although possibly a bit more stringy. It's kind of an unknown foodstuff that you take at face value, like babies with baby food. The ravioli shell is almost there, but the hint of freezer burn takes it down a couple notches as well. Thinking it couldn't get much shittier, I was rather rather surprised at the tang and spice of the BBQ sauce, although it had the texture of the assorted sauces slathered atop a styrofoam tray of Chinese fast food (too much corn starch). But I ate every last one. Why the hell not?
*To be perfectly honest, my audition tape for The Next Food Network Star was not well received, and I'm a tad jealous of Guy's meteoric rise, not to mention the fact that he gets to travel cross country and eat shit on camera, aka my dream job.