Like its food, the recent revelations about Chick-fil-A are nearly indigestible. Oh, Chick-fil-A, I have loved you so. When my first child was born in your theme park (Atlanta), you were my first stop on the way home from the hospital. You have offered me chick-n-stripped, waffle-fried, shake-alicious sustenance in the food courts of Nashua, Racine, and Provo. And you have been an oasis on my family’s annual pilgrimages along the east coast.
It hurts to say it, but this is goodbye.
And now you taunt me. Today, as I sat savoring the deliciousness of Five Guys Burgers and Fries, a satanic voice whispered into my heart: okay, you made one righteous sacrifice, but let’s see how tough you really are. What if you had to give this up too? You never know what the next news cycle will bring….
So, Five Guys, you’re officially on notice. I am no fun to be around when I have to choose between my appetite and my conscience. Keep your (five) noses clean, my friends, and we won’t have a problem.
Photograph by the author. Update: here is the best Five Guys serenade ever. 2 minutes. You’ll thank me. 🙂