Sheherazade sur Romans-Sur-Isere

11/07/2026: Quick stop on the way to our holiday destination. The electric car chargers were great. Even in the shade at midday. And they worked perfectly. Ordering from the menu at the kiosk was hassle-free, and the table service was provided by a charming, friendly, and helpful waitress. Clean restrooms.

30/06/2026: There are reassuring constants in life: the sun rises in the east, toast always falls butter-side down, and at the drive-thru of this McDonald's, something is always missing from the bag. This last rule, as immutable as the others, holds true with a regularity that almost inspires admiration. Because with each visit, or nearly so, it's the same little ritual: you walk away from the window full of confidence, you search your bag once you get home, and you invariably discover a mistake, an oversight, something missing. Yesterday was no exception. The company proudly advertised, on every door and every screen, a free keychain. Intrigued, I duly selected it along with my meal. And when it arrived? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The phantom keychain had joined the long list of vanished promises. Let's be clear: I couldn't care less about the keychain itself. I wasn't about to redecorate around this precious object. No, what's tiresome, what's wearing me down, is this mechanism of perpetual error, this tiny grain of sand that relentlessly jams the order, meal after meal. And the most remarkable thing about all this is how long this phenomenon has been going on. It's not a passing fluke, a bad day, an overworked employee. No, this recurring problem has been going on for about three years. Three years of unwavering commitment to errors, a consistency in imprecision that many establishments would envy. At this point, it's no longer a flaw, it's a signature.