The fading sun streaks the elevated golden arches with strings of light. They act as a beacon, guiding folks to the humble but vibrant building below in King, North Carolina. Inside, the air sifts cigarette smoke as the crowd enjoys handshakes, smiles, and fun food. The conversation hums and simmers as if the orchestra of community is tuning itself for this Thursday night tradition. Now almost six-fifteen, almost all the seats are taken, though many will be empty fourty-five minutes later once the music starts and the dance begins. It is a time to live out Blue Ridge Mountain culture in North Carolina. It is time to relax with old friends. It is a time to catch-up with people. It is time to dance away because it’s Thursday night at McDonalds.

Although just ten miles down the road from Winston-Salem, the McDonalds at the King exit off I-52 is home to a whole new fast food experience. One might have heard of this novel event from the triad’s entertainment magazine, Relish, but reading is not believing. Mesh caps, cowboy hats, tap shoes, suspenders, and toothpicks dominate the visual nature of this cultural collage. The band, composed of talented regional musicians wearing McDonald’s t-shirts, jams out classic bluegrass tunes whipping up a ruckus. The average age is well over 55. Individuality and inhibition dominate the night. One might encounter an 84 year old dancing man with a tall brimmed cowboy hat or hear the joyous laugh of a foot-tappin’ leg shakin’ 65 year old retired southern belle.

Southern hospitality must be brewed in the coffee or amiability part of the secret sauce. Everyone is accepting of you so long as you are accepting of them. Or at least Marvin sure seems to think so. Now in his 65th year, Marvin, a native of King has frequented the gathering for quite some time and says he plans on dancing “cause by the time you get to be this age, we figure you might as well dance before it’s time to go!” Marvin used to own a family business installing garage doors, then store fronts (including the windows in that very McDonalds), and even owned a bull he showed in the state fair. Apparently bulls aren’t so intimidating, for according to Marvin, “that damned animal thought he was a puppy!” Now days his week is full of country bluegrass from Monday nights at the Pilot Mountain Civic center or weekends at the Poley Rosey off Hollyberry Lane. He particularly enjoys Thursday because “everybody knows just about everybody.”

Everyone in the room has experienced the “real-world” Wake Forest prepares its students for. One woman had the first dance with her husband in a year just last week because it was their 43rd anniversary. Although they come frequently on Thursdays, her husband says he’s “not too much into dancing, just listening and watching.” Another character, wearing a scraggly, burly black beard covering a simpleton face atop a moping overweight body hands toys to the children. The man’s successful career as a flight engineer ended one day after he suffered severe brain damage from a horseback riding accident. Now he relies upon a tractor as his only transportation. Nevertheless, his fellow audience members greet him with a smile, handclasp and a genuine salutation of “how ya doin’ these days, great to see you here!”

In our suburbanized nation, few remnants of small town customs remain even within 30 miles of major cities. Corporate America has driven away small businesses and farmers have sold their family tracts. Coal mining towns are vanishing and rapid urbanization continues. Yet somewhere amid the Eckerts, Starbucks and Wal-Marts “country bluegrass” survives. Where once jug bands, bluegrass groups, and other local musicians came together at town squares and barns the new place to celebrate is McDonalds. In the end it matters not that the building or even the food itself is under corporate control, but rather that wherever there’s a working man’s song to be sung, people who can keep a simple beat, and anyone content enough to dance, the community comes together. For bluegrass lovers or those new to the genre, this gig is just one of many ways to burst the Wake bubble. If you happen along the McDonalds in King on a Thursday night, you’ll surely say to yourself ‘I’m lovin’ it.’