Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Our poor waitress...

After posting about my calendar misunderstanding, Bryan reminded me of something I'd done in undergrad, years before I'd met him. This story was shared with him a couple of days before our wedding. And he still went through with it. That's commitment. Now he is committed.

In Kalamazoo during the time I was in undergrad, there were few eating establishments that were open late enough to work with both our theatre schedules and our underage status. You had your choice of Sweetwater Donuts, Steak and Shake (oh my word do I love me a Frisco Melt Platter with fries and beans), a truck stop, and Big Boy. Big Boy was only minutes from campus and served actual food. This is the place we normally headed to for late night dinners. If you've never experienced a Big Boy, think Denny's with a much smaller menu , fewer high school students and more senior citizens. Their Big Boy Burger is a burger with thousand island dressing. This is their menu's highlighted item. Oh, and the double-decker grilled cheese. Not the best place in town for foodies, but a nice place to catch up after rehearsal.

One night when several friends and I had gathered to rehash our day, my roommate decided he wanted a milkshake. OOOOOO! Like a herd of sheep who knew how to read and had opposable (ha! spell checker thinks this should be imposable) thumbs, we all whipped our menus back open to actively contemplate our milkshake options. Yes, the choice between chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla was the most important decision at that moment.

Our waitress, most likely a college student herself, stopped by to take our order. We all told her our what'll you haves and then my roommate, such a trend setter, changed his mind. He didn't think he'd have a shake. He thought he'd enjoy a malt. Please.

Up until this point in my life, I'd never encountered anyone who had ordered a malt in my presence. I did not understand what this delicacy was. How was this different than the lowly milkshake? And so, I asked.

J replied, "It's like a shake, but it tastes like a Whopper."

I stared at him, squinting my eyes and hoping this would make his answer clear to me.

Then I replied, "Why the hell would anyone want a milkshake that tastes like a hamburger from Burger King?"

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

so....this is clearly not a case of mishearing, no, this is good old fashioned case of Stacy being underexposed to a lot of awesome. How on earth did you make it to 18-22 years of age without having a malt? your parents should be ashamed!
-v

Elizabeth - A Small State said...

A MALT is one of the best foods on the planet. And so are WHOPPERS. That said, I had a boyfriend in Undergrad (what is it about undergrad and food?) that was obsessed with Whoppers. He'd eat them across the table from me and the "secret sauce" would slither out from the back of the burger, making me want to puke.

No sauce should be SECRET!