Last Tuesday evening, l ate THE fluffiest, tastiest, Chic-fil-A sandwich I’ve ever had in my life! It was like thick and juicy. It sort of melted in my mouth.
I always remove the pickles cause I don’t like their texture, but I LOVE that pickle flavor. Mmmm. It just intertwines with the bread casing adding just the right zing.
DJ and I were heading to Columbia, SC, for our second visit to USC. I had a meeting in Garner, NC, at 6 PM, so we swung by the poultry pad right after as we headed out.
Chic-fil-A has been a part of every college tour we’ve been on thus far. It’s become part of our relationship.
That same night, when we neared Lumberton, NC, amid Pedro’s South of the Border billboards, we spotted it again. Another indication that there could be more. I mean, it had been almost two hours since we last partook.
“Need to stop? I sort of need to hit the potty.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
We pulled in. DJ got in line.
“I’ll be right back. Order me the Oreo shake, no cherry.”
As I walked toward the restroom, I could hear the southern clerk who, by the way, is happy to serve us cause as I understand it, her time hand spinning our milkshakes is paying for her college tuition.
“Maaay I help ya?”
When I returned, DJ informed me that she’d ordered larges, “Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Just in case we wanted more than a small or medium. You don’t have to eat it all.”
The sales clerk returned to the counter with our humongous ice cream treats.
“Thank you” DJ and I echoed.
“Iss my plasure,” Missy Mae Bell drawled.
And it did genuinely seem like her plasure. She was excited to help us.
A local in line behind us struck up a conversation.
“Oooo. You got a long receipt! You know what that means!”
“I paid too much?”
“Oh no!” the lady informed me. “You get a free sandwich if you go on-line and fill out a survey. I’m really lucky. I get those all the time!”
I thanked her for informing me of my good fortune, and bi-golly she was right! I should have given my prize to her. I forgot to complete the survey, and she specifically told me that I had to within 48 hours or I would forfeit my prize.
I’d be the guy who won the $97,000,000 lottery and discover I had the ticket two days after they’d given the prize money back to the education fund.
I have a lot of respect for my favorite fast food chain. When it’s not Sunday and I’m not hunkering for my warm bagged breast, I sort of admire that they observe the Sabbath. Not many places do that anymore. But I will admit, I get a little irked when I’m driving down I-95 on the second day of the weekend, and I notice the fine print under the big beak decorated C: Closed on Sunday.
It’s a downer.
Yeah, D J and I are building memories at a restaurant that sells $5 chicken sandwiches. It’s sort of sweet, yet kinda weird.