I had a rough day. Been through the wringer. I just wanted to stare out into space. Walked into a Frisch's Big Boy restaurant, thought a big pile of protein and starches might be good for the soul.
I'd love to just say to the hostess, "fix me sumthin'" and retire to a table to return to staring off into space.
Oh, no. They want to do me a big flippin' favor by telling me all these choices I have. There are first 2,000 items on the menu, but not that many pictures. Each one is a paragraph. I can get a sandwich, but sides are extra. 2 sides cost a certain amount. The soup & salad bar costs another amount. And a combo deal of one side and the S & S bar is still another price. What do I want to drink. Just some water... I step up to go to the soup bar, and she still has more questions: Do you want ice? Do you want a lemon?
Look, just fix me sumthin'.
DISCLAIMER: I don't want to turn this into another abortion thread, although by intentionally poking at our usage of the word "choice" I'd certain deserve that. There may be a real relationship here to abortion, but I'd rather not go there . . .
I'm experiencing the opposite here at Comfort Suites Yakima. Breakfast included, and only one thing on the menu. Today? Biscuits and gravy (we've got your starch and fat right here). Tomorrow? Scrambled Eggs with Bacon Bits. I can hardly wait.
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