- Joined
- Aug 21, 2013
- Messages
- 13,727
- Reaction score
- 15,686
It was lunchtime and I was hungry. A burger? Pizza? No, summer is ending and I needed something to remind me of the good times. And good times means good food. And good food means Chick-fil-A.
So, wearing my Vineyard Vines t-shirt and shorts, Auburn University (War Eagle!) baseball cap and my docksiders, I headed down to the local Chick-fil-A. The place was swarming with customers as usual, both drive-thru lanes circling around the building, every parking spot taken, etc. You know how the 'fil-A gets at lunchtime. I managed to snag an empty spot and walked in.
It really is something to be in a Chick-fil-A at lunchtime. A whirl of activity, a pandemonium of controlled chaos, a stampede of eager chicken lovers herded with grace by the team members through the turnstiles of ordering and dining. I noticed several other female customers eyeing my Vineyard Vines gear as if to say "if you looked up 'drip' in the dictionary, there would be a picture of this guy." I could tell they were avidly anticipating what I would order. The Honey Pepper Pimento? Surely a man as fashionable as me would be having a fashionable sandwich?
I could almost hear them audibly gasp as I placed my order with the cute tomboy cashier. "Original chicken sandwich. Large fries. Chick-fil-A sauce. Large Sunjoy." When asked what would be a good name for this order, I replied, "The Highwayman."
I made my way to the pick-up area and patiently waited. Never put your hands in your pockets, fellas, it makes you look like a shiftless bum. Before long I heard them call out, "Carry out for 'the Highwayman'!" Raising my hand, I took my order and started to leave. But then one of the girls who had been watching me stopped me.
"Why," she said, "why did you only get the original chicken sandwich? Why not something more fancy?"
"I'm a classic kind of guy and I stick with the classics," I said.
She seemed amazed. It was like, in this ever-changing world, she had never imagined something solid as a rock, something timeless, like the Chick-fil-A original sandwich.
"If you'd like to talk it over, here's my number," I said, handing her my card. I left and went to my car, noting that she was watching me as I did so.
How was my meal? Well, let's just say they don't call it a classic for no reason.
So, wearing my Vineyard Vines t-shirt and shorts, Auburn University (War Eagle!) baseball cap and my docksiders, I headed down to the local Chick-fil-A. The place was swarming with customers as usual, both drive-thru lanes circling around the building, every parking spot taken, etc. You know how the 'fil-A gets at lunchtime. I managed to snag an empty spot and walked in.
It really is something to be in a Chick-fil-A at lunchtime. A whirl of activity, a pandemonium of controlled chaos, a stampede of eager chicken lovers herded with grace by the team members through the turnstiles of ordering and dining. I noticed several other female customers eyeing my Vineyard Vines gear as if to say "if you looked up 'drip' in the dictionary, there would be a picture of this guy." I could tell they were avidly anticipating what I would order. The Honey Pepper Pimento? Surely a man as fashionable as me would be having a fashionable sandwich?
I could almost hear them audibly gasp as I placed my order with the cute tomboy cashier. "Original chicken sandwich. Large fries. Chick-fil-A sauce. Large Sunjoy." When asked what would be a good name for this order, I replied, "The Highwayman."
I made my way to the pick-up area and patiently waited. Never put your hands in your pockets, fellas, it makes you look like a shiftless bum. Before long I heard them call out, "Carry out for 'the Highwayman'!" Raising my hand, I took my order and started to leave. But then one of the girls who had been watching me stopped me.
"Why," she said, "why did you only get the original chicken sandwich? Why not something more fancy?"
"I'm a classic kind of guy and I stick with the classics," I said.
She seemed amazed. It was like, in this ever-changing world, she had never imagined something solid as a rock, something timeless, like the Chick-fil-A original sandwich.
"If you'd like to talk it over, here's my number," I said, handing her my card. I left and went to my car, noting that she was watching me as I did so.
How was my meal? Well, let's just say they don't call it a classic for no reason.
