I Love It When Random Awesome Stuff Happens.

I'm from the South.

Down here, Whataburger restaurants are a staple; the orange-and-white W signs are ubiquitous on Southern highways.

Some of y'all might not be familiar with them, seeing as a lot of you are godless Yankees, and all that.

So.

I'm leaving for Minnesota Thursday morning.

There are no Whataburger restaurants in Minnesota.

Or Pennsylvania.

So, figuring that we'd take advantage of what might be our last chance to eat there for years to come, Tara and I decided to split lunch, and we rolled in to Whataburger #270 at about ten minutes to noon.

Now, you guys have been in fast food joints. You know what to expect: food made of pressed monkey meat sandwiched between slices of soggy cardboard, fries mashed into the floor that haven't moved for weeks and have bugs crawling on them, cup rings on every flat surface, annoying, desultory service...

Well, Whataburger is many things, but it sure ain't McDonald's.

We walked in, and the first thing I noticed was that the place was friggin' spotless. I mean, SPOTLESS. No cup rings, the floor was clean - and as I watched, one of the employees was carefully sweeping dropped fries out from under the tables - the employees' uniforms were neat, the dispensers were full, and I saw the cook - twice - clean the grill between orders. Even the glass doors and outside walls were spotless. I can't imagine where they find the time to wash the walls, but they apparently manage.

Dude, cleanliness in a kitchen is a requirement, but Whataburger carries it to extremes. So I was already impressed by the time I got to the counter, and got smiled at by four different employees. They took our order, got everything right on the first try, and we took a number and went to a table. By the time we had gotten James to sit still for a second, they were already bringing our food out.

While we ate - I will get to the food in a minute - we watched as the lunch rush hit. About 20 people came in within 3 minutes of each other, and this doesn't count the drive-through; they fielded it easily, the assistant manager - a girl named Saran - opening a second register as soon as more than two people were waiting. (Something way too many businesses fail to do, and it's always annoying when that happens.)

The employees were busy - something also all too rarely seen at fast-food joints. The only time I saw an employee stand still for more than 15 seconds was once, when the girl bringing people's orders out to their tables, she had to hold a tray for one last order of fries.

Finely tuned machine, guys, seriously.

We got our food.

Let me explain to you, first, that food - of any kind, even "fast," is an art form. Reducing food to a science results in McDonald's; everything is frozen, so it's exactly alike (and sucks,) and everything is heated in microwaves or heat lamps so it's exactly alike (and sucks.)

Not at Whataburger.

They say "just like you like it," and they're not fucking around.

I got a grilled chicken melt, which is a sandwich that's a grilled chicken breast with melted swiss cheese, grilled onions, grilled Bell peppers, and mayo on either a toasted wheat bun or Texas Toast.

That is one seriously yummy sandwich, guys.

But Whataburger's not just about having good food - they're about having what YOU want on it, and they use colorful little stickers on the paper they wrap your sandwiches in for every special request, just to make sure they get it right. Bacon? How many slices do you want? Extra cheese? Grilled onions, peppers, or jalapenos? They have you covered.

Delicious. And topped off with a cinnamon roll, for $1.69, that was fresh, warm, with melted icing, that was the size of my hand.

I have big friggin' mitts.

So, yeah, awesome.

And it struck me, as I was sitting there, chowing on a particularly damn fine sandwich; there's a reason for this. Two, actually: the Whataburger corporate philosophy, and good management.

First, Whataburger is an American food chain, and they're not shy about it. They fly the flag at EVERY RESTAURANT, use all American products, and have a sign in the window that says, "One nation, under God, indivisible."

They take it seriously. And the American spirit - if there is such a thing anymore, which I guess there is, from Whataburger at least - is, at its simplest, beating your competition by offering the best bang for your buck anywhere.

They deliver on that.

And secondly, good management.

What I saw in that restaurant was a solid, frictionless machine; their team knew their jobs, they were happy, motivated, energetic, hardworking, and from about 6 different countries, unless I miss my guess.

And that, folks, is exactly what the American "melting pot" was supposed to produce.

I got out my receipt, dialed up to customer service, and told them that Whataburger #270 is doing a fantastic, off-the-chain job, and has (obviously) a really great management team.

And I went over and explained to the general manager about my move, and my absolute, unalloyed delight that my last meal for a while in Whataburger had been such an incredibly positive experience. I shook his hand and thanked him. He told me, "we'll expect you to come visit us. Six months sound good?"

Hell yes, it does. I don't know if it'll be POSSIBLE - but the first time I show up down here, I absolutely assure you, you will find me sitting in that Whataburger.

Think I'm going a bit overboard about a burger joint?

Step back a bit, guys, and really examine your memory; dig deep, mine your memories, and try to think of the last time you thought a fast food chain was doing a good job. Not a GREAT job, but just a GOOD one.

And then imagine how it felt to walk into one of my long-standing favorite places to eat, for what might be my last time there for years to come, and have the whole experience be not only "satisfactory," but as completely, across-the-board fantastic as that.

There's one guy I want to call out: Gerald Sanders, General Manager for Whataburger #270. He's the guy with his name on the receipt, the one upon whose shoulders the entire operation of that individual restaurant ultimately rests.

You're doing it right, man.

Thank you.