This is not church, this is Church’s Chicken

On our way home from the beach (Fort Morgan) last Sunday, we stopped at THE most fine dining establishment and I’ve GOT to tell you about it. We left around 10:30 am, which meant finding a lunch spot would be a tricky one because if we ate while still on 59, we’d be eating too early and if we waited until we got to Greenville or Montgomery, we would be starving. So we had to eat somewhere in between. Where? Atmore, AL! Now, I’ve never been to Atmore before and we didn’t go far into town, so I’m only making comments based on my experiences at this particular establishment. The appetizing exit of choice was the Wind Creek Casino exit (if you are familiar with I-65 in South Alabama). Mom thought we weren’t dressed nice enough to eat at the restaurant in the casino. So, our options were RJ’s BBQ and the Creek Family Restaurant that mom had eaten at before and said it wasn’t good (surprise surprise). As excited as we could be, we got off the interstate and began looking for RJ’s, which was only .6 of a mile according to the sign. We drove and drove and drove…far past .6 of a mile and never saw it.

Background info: we were in two vehicles and each had a walkie talkie we used to communicate and make decisions. In our van was Driver Brent, mom, Granny Rosie, and me. In the other van was Driver Dad, Ben, Quinton, and TH. Dad had already decided it was in his best interest to allow me to decide where to eat in order to avoid the “pregnancy attitude of disapproval” (of course, he made that decision long before we realized we only had one option…RJ’s).
Back to the story–So we are driving down the road realizing that RJ’s is no where to be found and we are headed into the middle of no where, and our chances of finding a place to eat are getting slimmer and slimmer. The boys didn’t care what we did, I hate making decisions, my mom was reading her book, and Granny Rosie just wanted us to make a decision. In the meantime we kept driving. My mom has that notion about her that maybe, just maybe, if you keep driving you’ll come upon a town that will have places to eat; so we do as she says and “see what’s over that hill.” And we came upon Atmore. If it were up to me, I would drive around the entire town, see what there is to offer, then make a decision about where to eat. I like to be well informed. Who knows, although highly unlikely, there could have been a Moe’s or Panera Bread. Instead, Driver Brent pulls into the first restaurant we see…Church’s Chicken, which was perfect because it was Sunday. I was hesitant from the start. We walked in and we were all looking for a bathroom…and there wasn’t one. If it’s not inside, the only place it can be is, yep you guessed it, outside. Similar to the nasty outdoor gas station bathrooms that never get cleaned because they are “out of sight, out of mind.” Maybe this is selfish, but I felt better that I went after my grandmother and mom because I felt like they soaked up the dirty germs before I got in there. But I’m sure those germs were so intense in that bathroom that nothing could be done to sanitize it. The bathrooms in the middle of no where Mexico were cleaner than this one. It was one of those bathrooms where I felt that I would be more sanitary if I didn’t wash my hands. The less time I had to be in there, the better. So after hand sanitizer and 3 Wet Ones, I ate my white meat chicken basket with mashed potatoes and a biscuit. Well, more like I picked at my food with my nose turned up. Wow, I sound stuck up…but I’m just a huge germophobe thanks to Mrs. Stanley and her unit on germs in 2nd grade. I was sure there had to be a better place to eat, until I saw all the church folks coming in at exactly noon to get their bucket of chicken family meal. It’s a happenin’ place on Sunday’s. We quickly finished our meal, had another round of hand sanitizer and Wet Ones, and headed back towards the interstate. We were determined to find RJ’s BBQ so we could know what we missed out on. Turns out that RJ’s is in a gas station, right by the interstate…if it had been any closer to the interstate, it would have been sitting on top of it. It wasn’t like a Subway that shares a building with a gas station; no, BBQ from a gas station. Surprisingly, I think we got the better end of the deal.
I have included this link of a Rickey Smiley (comedian) prank call about a lady who calls into Church’s Chicken thinking it’s a church. I would stop at 1:42. You can continue to listen at your own discretion…there is a dirty word at the end. Enjoy!

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