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"Funnel cake," Rodney says dreamily. "Oh, and frosting, the kind that comes in a can. Milk -- real milk, not the powdered crap. Whole milk from a real cow, pasteurized and appropriately packaged, of course. Brand name breakfast cereals. Cinnamon-raisin bread! Have you ever had cinnamon-raisin bread? Lightly toasted and spread with peanut butter -- oh God, crunchy peanut butter, Major, do you remember crunchy peanut butter?"
John has always been more of a creamy peanut butter guy, but he's pretty sure if he voices that opinion, it will only lead to an extended diatribe on how John is empirically wrong in his preferences, so he says nothing. Rodney continues listing off the foods he misses most as they hike their way back to the jumper.
"If we ever get to visit Earth again, I'm going to find the nearest carnival and spend an entire day eating everything they have. Roasted peanuts and almonds and cashews, caramel popcorn, cheesy popcorn, regular popcorn, onion blossoms, candy floss, freshly fried chips --"
"Candy floss?" John interjects.
"Candy floss. Come on, I know you've had candy floss. Sugar and food coloring, heated until it's molten and then pushed into a basin and spun with centrifugal force so the crystals turns all wispy and delicate when they cool. It comes on a stick. It melts in your mouth."
"You mean cotton candy."
"No, I mean candy floss."
"I'm pretty sure you're talking about cotton candy," John says. He takes the opportunity to glance at his watch and sees that they're making good time. They should be back to Atlantis in time for supper, which means Rodney can finally stop complaining about how off-world missions disrupt his delicate glycemic balance.
"And I'm quite sure that I'm talking about candy floss, Major. What kind of a name is 'cotton candy,' it makes me think about stuffing cotton balls into my mouth."
"How is that any worse than candy floss? Sounds like something a dentist would give to little kids for being good."
"Do American dentists give children candy for good behavior? That seems rather ill-conceived, considering the corollary between sugar consumption and tooth decay, not to mention America's burgeoning obesity crisis."
If John were in a bad or vindictive mood, he'd point out that Rodney is in no position to comment on anyone else's weight, but he feels chipper, and that would be unfair: Rodney's not so much obese as he is perennially prepared for a long hibernation.
"Tell you what, McKay: make it back to the jumper without complaining about how your pack is heavier than mine, and the next time we hit up a carnival, the candy floss is on me."
"My pack *is* heavier; I have four kilos of extra equipment in here, not to mention--"
"I offered to trade you--"
"Oh, like I'm going to trust you with this extremely delicate--"
"Right, because I've got two left hands when it comes to Ancient devices--"
They bicker back and forth until they reach the jumper, where Teyla and Ford are waiting for them. Rodney tries to convince Ford to back him up, but Ford just says "Leave me out of this," and Teyla is no help at all.
"We will resolve this," Rodney says as they strap themselves into the jumper. "Mark my words."
John can't help himself from smiling at the conviction in Rodney's voice.
"Sure, McKay. I'm looking forward to it."