A major event occurred yesterday here in the land of sunshine, palm trees, and alligators, and I was right in the middle of the excitement. You’ve undoubtedly guessed by now … yes, the Cracker Barrel opened adjacent to our increasingly less active adult community.
Actually, I was sitting in the air-conditioning when a contingent of the Ladies of the Cul-de-Sac stormed into the house, forced me to put on pants and teeth, and rushed over to the familiar ersatz homeyness of a long porch crowded with rocking chairs and oversized checkerboards. If you have never seen the gift shop at a Cracker Barrel then it follows that you have never been to a Cracker Barrel since you are forced to maneuver through the gingham pot-holders, ceramic frogs, and Moon Pies before the line waiting to sign up to wait for a down-home feast even comes in sight. The question has been posed: is it a restaurant with a large gift shop or is it a gift shop with food for the weary traveler?