TikTok Nuggets

I hate to admit this, because I long to be cool, but perhaps… I’m not.  And frankly, I thought, maybe, if parent-cool was on a one-to-ten number line, perhaps I was a seven.  I’m a little too Type A to ever be an eight, but still, compared to other middle agers I know, I felt like my cool factor was above average. 

There have been several moments over the years that have made me ponder my coolness.  A while back when I was dating, a “cool” guy at work told me I needed to stop dressing like a 50-year-old man if I ever wanted to find a woman.  But I was a 50-year-old man, and I scored a pretty fine lady even in dad jeans, a V-neck sweater, and a button down shirt.

But this month, Michelle turned 18.  Two weeks ago to celebrate, Julie and I set up our porch to host a couple of her friends.  When we asked about food, she requested a smorgasbord of chicken nuggets and French fries.  Yes.  Julie and I were each assigned three fast food restaurants.  We were instructed to purchase chicken nuggets, fries and dipping sauce. 

I was timid about requesting too many sauces.  Julie, not so much.  Chic Fil A gave her 30, six of each kind.  She’s a salesperson, not afraid to ask for what she wants. 

We brought them home, masked ourselves and dumped them all on a tray. 

I soon discovered that the food choice had nothing to do with chicken or potatoes.  Apparently, this meal is a TikTok trend. 

Some of you are wondering, what is TikTok?  I’m learning it is a video sharing app.  You take 15 second videos and the world can see them. 

So before wolfing down the nuggets, and drenching them in Polynesian, everything stopped.  Videos were taken.  Videos were retaken.  And only then, did they partake.

I don’t understand the TikTok.  I like TV shows and movies.  And thus the divide:  18 vs. 55. 

Chic-fil-AAAAAAA

ChickFilA-ChickenSandwich-e1395231520696

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.”

“Yeah right.”

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.

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