Anyone who has ever experienced a Sunday-based craving for the ultimate in sweet tea and waffle frees will understand and even love this Beatles spoof...
I have a soft spot in my heart for Chick-fil-A. It started in college, when it was one of the two places in a 100-mile radius to serve sweet tea. And, if you went late enough, they'd give you the leftover sweet tea for free in the big gallon jugs. Leftover sweet tea? you ask, well yes. Up North, the sweet nectar isn't as hot a commodity and there were often several gallons leftover at closing which, ironically, was just when a college student needed a sugar rush. The other sweet-spot on Route 1 was the Cracker Barrel, a far too dangerous option when considering the proximity to apple-cinnamon dessert goodness and homemade chicken and dumplings.
While my time at college ended, my love of the home of the famous chicken sandwich did not. Their billboards called to me. Their ginormous helmeted cow-people at football games and local dealerships wooed me with offers of free chicken minis. Then my niece fell in love with the chain and, I have to admit, she's got some valid points. Best playplace around. Nicest people (refills brought into said playplace!). And they even split milkshakes, which comes in handy when you're sharing yours with a backwashing two-year-old.
Oh Chick-fil-A. I believe, too.