Dairy Queen

As the title suggests, this post will include Dairy Queen, but goes much beyond our first visit to a Dairy Queen here in New Jersey. 

After a night out on the town, the clock hit 9:30, and we were beat (are we getting old?). Before heading home, Meara suggested we hit up a Dairy Queen so she could get the Pumpkin Blizzard, since there aren't enough pumpkin things surrounding us this time of year (as I type this I am drinking a Pumpkin Spice latte...). Naturally, I am not one to turn down a Dairy Queen blizzard (although always stick to Oreo), so Meara typed it in the GPS, and we were off. 

We soon found out that Dairy Queen's out here are much different than back home. No burgers, no fries, no chicken fingers, just milkshakes, blizzards, and hard ice cream. Not that I'm complaining, but weird! So we are waiting in line, and waiting, when the gentleman in front of us FINALLY gets his blizzard. Unfortunately, the highly qualified individual behind the counter wearing sagging sweat pants and a tattered t-shirt made his blizzard wrong. Luckily he decided to go in the back and get some help, and out comes the manager/owner, looking worse for wear than the employee... After waiting longer than I ever have just to order a blizzard, we are informed that they are out of Pumpkin Blizzards. Awesome... Meara quickly moves on and orders some Apple Pie thing, and I stick to the good stuff. Just as we finish paying, the manager informs the employee where the extra pumpkin supplies are in case anyone wants a Pumpkin Blizzard. Awesome... I think we need to find another ice cream place. 

We then continue on our way home, driving through a town about 10-15 minutes outside Highland Park. It's about 10pm on a Friday night, so quite a few people are out and about (not sure why they aren't at home). We turn a corner, and a man darts in front of our car across the street, narrowly avoiding becoming a hood ornament. We then quickly realize why he is running. On the opposite side of the street we see a man carrying a baseball bat, and another carrying a big heavy chain. We see the first man has joined a group on the other side of the road, and more men are coming to join those carrying the beat sticks (flashback to the fight scene in Anchorman). And we are stuck in between these two parties. I quickly punch the gas, ducking behind the wheel as if I am dodging bullets like they do in the movies. Neither of us have experienced something like this, it just doesn't happen too often out on the farm, as far as I know. 

We wind through the streets without any other incidents, and pull into Highland Park to find: the local Jewish Temple has just let out. So instead of stopping for men carrying weapons, we kindly stop for two gentlemen wearing suits and their Kippahs as they head home from worship. Good feeling to be back in our neighborhood. 

-Kevin