Apparently I am a total cliche, so I’m taking the first of the year as an opportunity to take some writing classes and try out some new techniques. Below is one of my first stabs at one of them.
The smell of deep fryers and a hint of sweetness hang in the air with the din of conversation as we line up behind 10 or so other hungry people at the dingy beige counter. Overhead is a menu board offering “BREAKFAST (with gravy)”.
It is New Years Eve and we’re in Connie’s Fried Chicken in Tupelo, Mississippi and we’re here in search of biscuits and gravy. We’re in town on an overnight pit stop on a journey to Clarksdale for a holiday weekend of blues and barbeque. I settled on Connie’s after stumbling upon beautiful pictures of fried chicken on one of several travel sites that I read obsessively and was immediately in love.
“Oh my god, look at those doughnuts. Can we move to Tupelo?”