Tonight as I waited for my laundry, I found myself with half an hour and five dollars to spare. I decided to grab a friend and sample the cuisine of a newly-opened eatery known as Krystal.

Krystal is a chain restaurant popular with many types of fine people with whom you may enjoy communication via The Official Krystal Lover Community. It is the South's version of White Castle, which also has a MySpace account and probably a Official Lover Community of its own. Maybe I should start a Squidhead Lover Community, Krystal is one slick pimp.

But I digress. Krystal's claim to popularity is a simple combination of two factors:
1. It is open late, and
2. They serve hand-sized food that can easily be eaten while driving.
For these reasons it is quite successful among people who keep odd hours and take their meals while busy with something else; college students and truckers, for example.

Accompanied by another person whom I knew would be awake and glad to enjoy cheap burgers after 11pm, I coasted through a crowded parking lot and into the brightly-lit drive-thru lane, a beacon in the surrounding darkness. I was greeted by a sign informing me of a "Sampler Combo" for a very reasonable $4.59, which to my convenience Starkville's hefty restaurant tax raised to a round five dollars.

Having dropped my friend off at his place, I shall now record my opinions as I devour each of my items.

The Famous Krystal - a businesslike disc of meat sandwiched in a warm bread roll with a faint sprinkling of diced onions, a soggy-looking slice of pickle, and a hastily-appended dab of mustard. A somewhat bland burger, yet satisfying. A no-nonsense food that is here for one thing: to fill your stomach, and it doesn't plan on any screwing around in the meantime.

Krystal Chik - Its clubkidesque name doesn't suit a rusty orange boneless chicken fillet in warm dinner roll with a splash of mayonnaise and another drab-looking slice of pickle. So I'm already a little disappointed. It's okay. Mayo was a nice touch, but too much salt.

French Fries - Uninspired. Lukewarm, pus-colored things that have obviously been left in the basket too long. They have a thin, leathery skin that resists chewing and tends to get stuck between the teeth. They seem to be devoid of spices, and to my chagrin I was not provided with ketchup. Having eaten three fries, my mouth is coated with starchy grease, which sadly fails to enhance the experience. A little Tobasco sauce and ketchup makes them better, but nothing I'd serve to guests.

Diet Coke - ice to Diet Coke ratio is not generous. After washing the fry-film from my mouth twice it's empty.

Chili Cheese Pup - A rebel with a heart of gold. I opened a styrofoam case in which one would expect to find a normal, human sized hot dog. What one finds is a little tiny hot dog in a little tiny bun with an I-just-don't-give-a-fuck mohawk of bright yellow cheese over a crass pile beanless chili. That's the rebel part. The chili, however, is a complex blend of flavors that play off each other like melody and harmony. The sweet, bitter, and hot flavors of horseradish, onion powder, and tobasco war constantly for the taste buds while lightly-salted meat and tangy mustard duel one-on-one. The hot dog and bread are as bland as the burger, and stolidly tolerate the battle of flavors taking place above them. That's the heart of gold part. Certianly the most interesting of the items I received.