Fast food ahhhh! I don’t drive through the golden arches, my daughter doesn’t have Dunkin Donut holes on the weekend, and what does a bell have to do with a taco?

But, twice a year I’m naughty.

I visit my brother in Atlanta. When the airplane wheels touch the ground and the wings level off, I begin thinking of wings attached to chicken and I plan my first taste of a succulent chicken sandwich, waffle fries, and lemonade at Chick-fil-A.

I?m the first to buy at my local farmer’s market even getting the heirloom chicken there, the carrots, the cucumbers, the creamy freshly made yogurt but when I get on that Atlanta destination flight all reason flies out of the plane when the stewardess? closes the door. I become a different person a  butter-roasted juicy chicken sandwich seeking person.

Upon entering the Atlanta airport tram, I spy my first red and white Chick-fil-A wrapper, and my heart beats faster.

My brother picks me up at the airport?and I smile at the Chick-fil-A billboard on the highway. When did you last have a chicken sandwich, bro?
He furrows his brow hummm. Last week, I think.
He doesn’t know how could he not know!
I get to his house. Hug his wife. Unpack my clothes. So, I lean on his black kitchen counter, Any chance I could have the keys
Yeah, sure. You want me to get something for you He offers.
No, just thought I’d head out for a few minutes. I’ll be right back. Do you remember how to get where you are going My sister-in-law asks. I nod and extend my hand for the key drop.

As I drive up route 140, I swear warm chicken smelling fingers reach toward me to guide my way. At last the bright red Chick-fil-A sign welcomes me like an angel. I pull behind the trail of cars that awaits bliss in front of me. I gnaw a left hand nail in anticipation.
“May I help you,” I think the man inside the intercom says I love you. “Number one combo, please.”
My car eases toward the take-out window.
The window slides open.
The exchange occurs.
I feel and smell the golden package in my lap.
I can wait no longer. I plunge my hand into the paper bag, rip open the sandwich bag and chomp on the chicken. Each chew releases tingles on my tongue?and the fries are such happy companions to my chicken.

So much fast love wrapped in such a small red package.

  Filed under: Chick on the go, Chick-ism, Stuff that floats through this chick?s mind. by  Gwen  No Comments »