When I lived in Atlanta, Chick-fil-A was one of my favorite places to go, good book (or Good Book) in hand, and sit in the presence of the Lord. I reclined at a booth, savoring both the sweet fellowship of Jesus, and the sweet tea. I wasn't a coffee drinker in those days, so free refills on tea was as good as it got. Then I moved to Kansas. Needless to say, it was a big disappointment when I visited Chick-fil-A and found, to my horror, that I had migrated north of the dreaded
Sweet Tea Line. Check out the link for a clever bit of cultural geography.
I propose that another cultural geographer should undertake the plotting of a "Boiled Peanut Line." I know for certain that it is somewhere north of Atlanta and south of Chicago. I discovered this in 1991, when I attended my first Chicago Cubs game at historic Wrigley Field. Walking toward the stadium, through the throng of street vendors, I couldn't find boiled peanuts anywhere! I panicked. How could I watch a baseball game without boiled peanuts? We might as well omit the seventh inning stretch! Of course, until then, I had never watched a game anywhere but
Fulton County Stadium (may it rest in peace).
