Editor's note: This article is satire.
In late 2021, when Raising Cane’s purchased the building at 101 E. Franklin St., I was battling the ups and downs of 11th grade.
Now, nearly two years later, I’m a first-year in college, and my mouth is watering for the chicken fingers and crinkle-cut fries I’ve been promised.
With a grand opening date finally announced, here’s how I envision my long-awaited trip to Cane’s:
Once a hole-in-the-wall, Cane's has polished glass windows and a bright red ribbon set to be cut with obscenely large scissors. Students, alumni and community members alike form a line all the way down to Insomnia Cookies to celebrate the magical moment that this is.
As I step inside, I’m faced with joyously cheering children, the smell of salted fries and happiness and the distant squawking sound of … honestly, I’m not going to think too hard about it.
Amid the buzz of excitement around me, I grab a menu.
It is a feat to behold, a marvel. I bathe in the nation’s newest glory. I nearly shed a tear. But I’ve waited so long, I’m so hungry. I press on through the crowd.
I step up to order my 50-finger tailgate meal. The prophecy is within reach! But, something seems off, and it’s not the six-foot half-chicken, half-man behind the counter. The worker gives me a bizarre look, and I’m suddenly self-conscious.
