A couple of months ago a Bojangles restaurant opened right beside the office building in which I work. Even though it is close enough that I can smell the chicken on the way to and from my car in the parking lot, I very rarely go there to eat. I don’t have anything against it per se, they make some fine chicken and fixin’s for sure. After playing some basketball at a local rec center and not having anything for lunch upon returning to work, I decided to brave the 150 feet it takes to walk there and go get some famous chicken.
When I walked into the restaurant the place was actually pretty packed. I had to wait in line while the customers ahead of me were making their choices. On a big sign right beside the register there was a promotional flyer telling patrons that you could get a two-piece chicken meal with a side and a drink for only $5 dollars. It must have been a pretty good deal because the people in front of me in line were all ordering it. When the man, approximately 50 years old, right in front of me got to the counter, he ordered the two-piece meal but was very torn about what type of pieces he wanted. After much deliberation he told the lady behind the counter he wanted two legs in the meal. My initial reaction to this choice was to wonder who orders legs when breasts are still on the table. Apparently he discovered his miscalculation as well because as soon as the words came out of his mouth you could see the regret on his face.
For anyone that isn’t familiar with this restaurant, the chicken at Bojangles is right in front of you when you are ordering. The workers fill your plate or box from large trays of chicken sitting under heat lamps right before your eyes. As the lady started to fill the man’s box with his now undesirable leg pieces, it apparently became too much for him. He yelled to the lady, “what’s a thigh?” I believe at this point she was slightly caught off guard by the question. Frankly, I was also surprised that a man in his 50’s, who appeared to be a somewhat regular dude, wouldn’t know what a thigh was. That’s when things took an unexpected turn. I’m not sure if it was because of the way in which the man asked the question or being caught in the middle of preparing his meal, but the worker dropped his to-go box on the counter and proceeded to show the man where the thigh muscle was located on her own body. Forgetting for a moment there were whole trays of chicken thighs available to her at an arm’s length from her current location, the quick refresher course on the human anatomy must have been enough for the man because he promptly changed his order to two thighs.
With my interest now piqued, it was my turn to make some big decisions. I stepped to the counter, filling the vacancy left by the now delighted two-piece thigh customer ahead of me. I placed an order for a two-piece chicken meal, specifying both to be legs. As the lady proceeded to pick up a box and approach the tray of leg meat, I loudly inquired: “what’s a breast?”