Friendly's

I have come up with a new catchphrase for Friendly's: sometimes friendly, always slow. I took my friend out for a goodbye ice cream trip since she's going away for the spring, and Friendly's was the best place for us to do that. I did not heed another friend's warning about Friendly's, telling myself that my memory had exaggerated the facts, and it really hadn't taken them almost an hour to get us three sundaes the last time I was there.

I was silly to do that to myself, however, because Friendly's did what it does best: keep you waiting. We sat in our booth, hungry and craving something, anything food-like, but to no avail. Our waitress would occasionally pass us by on the way to other tables, which is an improvement, since most of the time the Friendly's servers are AWOL immediately after we order, but she never stopped. Our desperate pleas for sustenance were ignored. The woman was sort of friendly, but I aged about ten years while waiting for this to translate into service.

At last, we had reached the point of hunger where we were no longer hungry. Our sundaes, opportunely, arrived at this moment. We ate them slowly and paid. I walked out feeling as I always do when I exit Friendly's: that was terrible, and I will never eat there again. Then I forget and return a month later.

Sometimes repressed memory works against you.