Across Tennessee. By Kia.
“Three hundred miles?!?” says the LTLP.
“Chill out. It will be worth the journey, for food like this,” I reply.
“Three hundred miles?!?!?!?”
“I will go in ahead, and see if I can get a table.”
It is amazing being in such a historic place from the dawn of the universe of food. Colonel Sanders’ original restaurant is like a Stonehenge for the peckish man. I stride in, feeling the aura, soaking in the atmosphere of this place; the convergence of hundreds of strands of catering, of thousands of carefully-breaded ley lines.
“What would you like?” enquires the lady behind the counter (I assume she is Colonel Sanders’ great great granddaughter or something, but I do not like to ask.)
I order some chicken. She asks me if I would like a side order with it, and I choose a side order. She asks me what I would like to drink, and I choose my drink. I then go to collect some serviettes and a straw.
Truly, it is a unique experience.
“Three hundred miles?!?!???!” chants the LTLP as we begin the drive to our next destination back in Tennessee.
But I do not care. I am happy. I have a belly full of chicken, and a photograph of the Toddler sitting on a bench next to a life-size fibreglass model of Colonel Sanders.
“Could we perhaps do some normal holiday things now?” she asks.
I smile. I have some really good plans coming up, that she will really love.