There is a fast-food restaurant in our town that is famous mostly
for its chicken sandwiches. Maybe you've heard of it: Chick-fil-A.
For you Northern readers: I'm not making that up.
husband loves those chicken sandwiches and will take every
opportunity to go to Chick-fil-A. I, however, don't care for fried
anything, much less a warmed-over fried chicken sandwich with
precisely three similarly warmed-over pickle slices on it. Who eats
pickles with fried chicken? That's just plain whack. Even my husband
takes them off. The point is, it's a rare event for me to see the
inside of a Chick-fil-A.
However, something in the cosmos must have shifted yesterday,
because I found myself at Chick-fil-A not once, but three times in
My husband and I like to have lunch together whenever we can, and
it's become a joke between us that when I ask him where he wants to
go for lunch, he'll answer "Chick-fil-A," and when he asks me, I'll
say, "Anywhere but Chick-fil-A." It's standard practice. We both
know the drill.
Yesterday, I happened to have my 9-year-old daughter with me, and
she was moaning about how hungry she was. No, I wasn't starving the
poor girl. I had just seen her scarf down a giant navel orange, two
peanut butter cookies and a fruit roll-up less than an hour before.
Trust me, she gets enough to eat. I think her stomach is simply
I needed to use my cell phone to call my husband to invite him to
lunch with us. I'm one of those people, however, who can't multitask
while driving, so I pulled into the closest parking lot, which
happened to be... you guessed it: Chick-fil-A.
I had no intention of staying there, of course; I was simply
trying to determine where to meet my husband for lunch. As it
happens, he couldn't come out to play, so my daughter and I were on
She turned those big brown eyes on me and fairly wept when she
asked, "Can we just stay here, Mom? I'm so hungryyyyyy!" As if she
hadn't eaten in a week.
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"You don't even like chicken sandwiches," I said.
"I know, but they have other stuff," she whined.
I faced my fate with resignation. We went in and found that the
only two things we could stomach were the fruit cup and a brownie.
Now before you condemn me for not choosing a healthier meal, let me
just say that with the milk we ordered and the nuts on the brownie,
we hit all four food groups. I'm not sure which food group the
Mountain Dew was in, but we didn't need it. We had all four even
I felt the guilt eating at me while I ate my fruit cup and
brownie. We were eating at Chick-fil-A... without my husband. He's
going to hate me.
I had already left the parking lot and was halfway home before I
decided on a way to assuage my guilt. I went back to Chick-fil-A and
ordered my husband's favorite value meal and delivered it to him. I
felt a little better.
Later, my son informed me that he had gotten an award in school
for being responsible. I'm not sure how that happened, but like I
said, I think it was a cosmic event. Apparently the award came with
a free ice cream cone from, yes... Chick-fil-A. I couldn't not take
him, could I? We drove back to Chick-fil-A for a third time.
By this time, the manager thought I either really loved their
chicken sandwiches or I was casing the joint. I assured him that
neither was the case. I was simply forced to come to Chick-fil-A
through circumstances beyond my control.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
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