Making memories

As a belated celebration of my birthday, my cute roommate took me out for fro-yo yesterday after work. The place we had planned to go was closed by the time I made it through the tangled web of downtown traffic, so Bryn decided we should visit her second-favorite soft-serve spot: Dave’s Shop ‘N Go.

It turns out the sign is the classiest part of this dilapidated gas station shop. The sign indicates there’s some sort of “market” inside, but the only edible items I saw (aside from the ice cream) were plastic baggies filled with cinnamon gummy bears and almonds. (I’m sure there were other shelf-stable-until-the-end-of-the-world items available. I was probably just too busy eyeing the tattoos of the other patrons.)
These unusually packaged items and the overall atmosphere had me a bit worried, but it turns out the chocolate soft-serve was satisfyingly sweet. And at $1.49, per cup, it was certainly young-starving-career-girl friendly.
The best part about the whole experience, though, was that Bryn and I enjoyed our ice cream on a blue, plastic bus stop bench outside Dave’s.
It was the only place to have a seat, and Bryn said that in all the time she’s been coming to Dave’s, she’s never actually seen a bus. We determined that if one did come, though, we’d hop on because that’s the sort of thing single gals lacking adventure in their lives ought to do, right?
A bus never did arrive, but as we sat chatting and eating soft-serve out of Styrofoam cups, I was reminded that the best events in life aren’t necessarily the most glamorous.
Sure, it would be wonderful to win a trip to Buckingham Palace to meet Kate Middleton. (If you hear of such a contest, let me know.) But I think some of the best memories are made during four-hour car rides through the desert, over spaghetti and meatballs at Grandma’s house, and on bus stop benches outside Dave’s Shop ‘N Go.