I Wish I Could Quit You, Friendly's

I’m a cheap date. My favorite restaurant? Friendly’s. Okay, it’s not my FAVORITE favorite restaurant, but it’s certainly up there. The greasy counters. The terrible service. The screaming children. Man, is that place a mecca for good times, or what?

In all seriousness, I do love me some Friendly’s. You know the service is going to be atrocious and the food is going to be subpar. If it wasn’t for the ice cream, they would have gone bankrupt a looooong time ago (as it stands, their bankruptcy proceedings closed down all the closest locations to me - only making it more of a treat to go now).

B and I were in the mood to get our ice cream on last weekend. The closest one we knew of was near his old apartment. It wasn’t all that far away, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a hidden location we were missing out on. My kick-ass Google abilities find us a restaurant closer to my apartment. I call their number to confirm that they’re open and get the dreaded message that the line is out of service. FML. But then I see that in my excitement, my shaking fingers must have dialed the wrong number. I call back, slowly typing the correct number in my phone. A woman answers “Thank you for calling Friendly’s” and I do a victorious fist-pump, glad that she can’t see me. Then I hang up and drag B away from the Sox game.

Is a visit to Friendly’s ever a waste? Not if you order ice cream. But if any trip could be listed as not worth the time, this would be up there. First, our waitress brought us out the wrong orders. We both ordered burgers, and she brought us out some sandwiches. Next, I asked for a side of honey mustard. She brings me a side of something halfway through our meal, and before I can tell her she’s mistaken, she’s gone. I know some people like to dip their fries in lard mayo, but I can barely stomach mayo on my turkey sandwich, let alone a bowl full of it. Ew. We asked for drink refills when we put in our ice cream order. Never got those; I nearly passed out from dehydration. It wasn’t all that busy, but the waitress was harder to track down than Katniss.

You know what? I didn’t even care. You don’t go to Friendly’s for the food or the experience. You go for the ICE CREAM. When we finally ordered dessert, their vanilla soft-serve machine was down, which B was all butt-hurt about. I ordered my go-to: Reese’s pieces 3-scoop sundae.

If you’re not as fat well-versed in the Friendly’s menu as I am, let me stop here for a moment. Friendly’s has a Reese’s pieces sundae and a Reese’s’ peanut butter cup sundae on the menu. To the untrained eye, they might look the same. Do not be fooled. The Reese’s pieces sundae has Reese’s pieces mixed in throughout; the Reese’s cup sundae has a measly peanut butter cup stuck on top and calls it a day. There’s not crushed up peanut butter cups mixed in; if you want the Reese’s experience, the Reese’s pieces are the way to go. She brings out our sundaes and I see the peanut butter cup on top of mine. I didn’t want to say anything, in case she was trying to make it up to me after a dinner of terrible service and had stuck it on there as some kind of peace offering. I dig my spoon in the bottom of the sundae and try to see if there are any Reese’s pieces in there. None. Our waitress was MIA again so I begrudgingly eat my sundae - which I can safely say, was the worst I’ve ever had there.

I was pissed. The shitty service and shouting children are tolerable only b/c you know the dessert will be the saving grace. I bitched the whole ride home until B offered me some of his ice cream, an oreo McFlurry Friend-Z. I can’t stay mad at that.

luckily we didn't have to go all the way to Worcester...but I probably would have

Comments

Yeewuz said…
Umm, what does "butt-hurt" mean?

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