I like McDonalds.

Whenever I say that, people look at me funny. Both in Sweden and the United States. For Swedes, McDonalds represents the arch-enemy (pun intended) of Swedish culture; invading our poor nation with globalistic, imperialist capitalism; fattening our children; destroying household dinners; and carpeting the country with cheap and unhealthy fast food. To Americans, McDonalds represents the lowest common denominator of fast food, neither upscale nor fancy; the place you go where there’s nowhere else to go.

So why do I like it? Is it because I know the manager of the two Mc restaurants in town? Because many of my friends have at one point or other worked there? Because I’ve been there so often (purchasing coffee!) that the staff almost knows me by name now?

I fell in love with McDonalds way back in 1994, during a trip down to Roumania with the bible school I attended back then. We were just passing through Hungary, and stopped at the familiar golden arches just past the border checkpoint. A bit of familiarity on the road; and then we drove on down to Budapest. And it was there that we discovered that one of the ladies with us had forgotten her purse, complete with visas, passport, money and everything. Without this purse it would be impossible to get into Roumania. And with everything we suspected about this former East Bloc nation, the purse would be gone since long by now. Catastrophic failure loomed on the horizon, not to mention endless agony and waiting at the Swedish embassy.

Out of desperation, we stopped at a McDonalds in Budapest. It turned out it was managed by an American who had moved there, who sympathised with us and our missions trip, and not only did we get to spend time there, eating good food, using the facilities to wash up and look nice again; but the manager also called up to the restaurant in North Hungary. They had found the purse, with everything intact in it! So at McDonalds expense, they put it in a taxi and drove over 300 kilometers down to Budapest and handed it off to us. Then smiled, waved us off and wished us good luck.

It’s things like that, that imprints into your soul. Ever since then, McDonalds represents a welcome sign on the road, a bit of home. A Big Mac is a Big Mac, wherever in the world you go. And to me, it feels like wherever I go, there’s always a friendly smile behind the counter, waiting for me.

You can’t beat that.