Chick Finis

Wait, back up. What just happened? One minute I’m happily grabbing a salad from the Ruby Tuesday in Five Points South, then the next week it’s gone. THEN my buddy tells me that the spot is going to become a Chick-fil-A. NOW everyone is pounding away at their keyboards to start Facebook groups to protest the opening of the Chick-fil-A. What? Why!?

What’s with the Chick-fil-A teabagging? (I mean that in both the current sense of “Political Hatin’” as well as the classic meaning of “Dippin’ the Sac.”)

I’ll be upfront with you. I’m not sure what people’s problems are with this delightful, adorable and family-friendly chicken sandwich restaurant. I haven’t even taken the time to ask. I’m sure I wouldn’t like the answer, because I’m sure no answer would be good enough. Perhaps it’s because there always has to be a second-tier cause—an issue that’s only a little important that you can throw yourself into while ignoring the bigger stuff. Like a while ago when people kept going on about how beer needed to be more alcoholic. Okay, sure. So they organized sit-ins, raised funds, had marches, kidnapped key members of the anti-beer movement and filmed them at gunpoint. During this entire ordeal, I had the answer to their problem, but no one would listen. You want higher alcohol content in your beer? YOU DROP A #%&*ING SHOT OF WHISKEY INTO IT.

But the we-want-manlier-beer guys fought and won. Good for them. Now, everyone drinks Pabst, just like they did a year ago. (Not that the beer preferred by Blue Velvet’s Frank Booth is bad, and we all know the truth about Heineken, but still…)

So what’s the new goal for the Causeratti? To keep me way from my precious carrot and raisin salad and my “freshly squeezed by a Christian God” lemonade. But why?

Though I was listening but not hearing when people discussed this glorious restaurant and their attempts to destroy one of my few joys in life, I’ve come up with two theories why people may want to attack Chick-fil-A—and, by proxy, me—in such a thoughtless manner.

That’s right, I’m taking it personally.

Theory number one: the innocent chicken sandwich giant will cause traffic catastrophes on the magnitude of John Cusack driving away from an erupting volcano. Look, as a pedestrian in the magic city of Birmingham, Ala., I’ll be the first to testify that people around here CANNOT drive. It’s as if (I’m gonna go a long way for this one, and I don’t care, because it’s worth it) most of the drivers in this town were sent here as infants from a doomed planet of turn signals. When that planet exploded, turn signals were spread all over Earth. Now these people have become deathly allergic to turn signals and avoid using them, as if they were kryptonite (told you it was worth it)

Now, somehow, these Anti-Chicks have gotten it into their heads that a drive-through in Five Points South would be calamitous. Perhaps these people are right. Whenever a restaurant with an easy and efficient drive-through is placed on a corner, the results are often quite deadly.

Take, for example, the McDonalds on the corner of University Blvd. and 27th St. Since that restaurant opened, I have seen no less than 52 Cannonball Run-quality pile ups and one Bullitt-style chase caused by persons too excited by their McRib hangovers to pay attention to the road. This is why it is always a bad idea to place a drive-through in a bustling and convenient part of the city. Why take the chance that people have actually driven before and might figure out how to use a #^%$ing turn signal when you can just NOT build the restaurant and eliminate the possibility of accidents all together? Why stop there? Let’s get rid of intersections. From now on all roads should be straight AND one way. No chance of accidents there. Why not eliminate cars as well? Without cars, people will have to apply their make-up and make their Twitter updates at home. A brave new world, right? Yes, a brave new world, and it was all my idea.

My second theory is that some people may feel that Chick-fil-A just isn’t the type of eatery that would fit into the upscale vacation destination known as Five Points South. “How dare them!” I imagine these people gasping as they drape across the fainting couch waiting for their butlers to return with smelling salts. “The nerve of these people. Trying to sell grilled chicken sandwiches just down the street from the head shop!”

I mean, this is still just a theory. I don’t REALLY know what people are up in arms about, but if it’s because they feel that Chick-fil-A doesn’t fit in/ I have no choice but to pantomime a dismissive wanking motion while slowly shaking my head and sighing. I do this a lot these days, unfortunately.

When did Five Points South become this Mecca of cultural snobbishness? It’s Five Points South! It’s where guys that look like Bizarro M.C. Hammer try to sell me bootlegged Isley Brothers CDs at least once a week. It’s a place so devoid of joy and wonder that a combination toy/art store CANNOT stay in business there. The truth is if we were to add a few huge LCD screens and Asian lettering to Five Points South we could easily remake Blade Runner there shot for shot.

I blame valets. As soon as people started to add valet services to various restaurants around the area, people began to think they were in a fancier world. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to feel fancy (or uppity) ever so often. When I want to feel that way, I wear a top hat. But even then, I don’t go around trying to ruin everyone else’s good time just because they’re not as fancy as me. Who does that?

Look, as we’ve discussed before, I’m not rolling in dough. Plus, I was raised in a working-class, blue-collar family. For me, back then, Chick-fil-a was fancy! You only had it on occasion, and when you did, it was a big deal. Now that I’m older and I work and work and make a little dough, I occasionally want to treat myself so that I can make it all feel worthwhile. But I don’t want truffle oil drizzled on imported celery or mini foie gras tacos soaked in clarified butter. For me, being able to walk around the corner and grab carrot and raisin salad from the Chick-fil-a would have made my week.

But some people disagree. It may be because of horrible Southern drivers, or it may be the foppish dandies that choose to pay $39 for a hamburger. Someone is to blame for ruining this for me and the other people that don’t care about looking like big shots.

Whoever you are… Shame on you. Get a real hobby and leave my lemonade alone. It wouldn’t have hurt you. Chick-fil-a lemonade is love.





Noted scribe J’mel Davidson writes about any damned thing he wants, and we at Birmingham Weekly—like Joel Cairo in The Maltese Falcon—take it and like it. Send your comments to editor@bhamweekly or email J’mel directly at heinousclown@gmail.com.