I loves me some Dairy Queen. And I don’t want a blizzard or something complicated, all I ever want when I go to DQ is a vanilla cone. Not a cone dipped in chocolate or covered in red goo, just a nice little cone.
Brian and I enjoyed a little trip to DQ last week, squeezing in at 9:30—just ½ hour before they closed at 10pm (as advertised on their website).
Saturday night, I was ready for a repeat performance, and we pulled in to the parking lot at 9:05 to see a closed down building with clearly marked hours informing us that they close at 9pm now.
Okay, that’s understandable. I was bummed that we hadn’t left the restaurant 7min earlier (yes, I went from a nice restaurant for some soft-serve, don’t judge), but I could live. Because I knew that Sunday night, DQ would be mine.
It wasn’t. After debating whether we would walk or drive, we decided it was too cold to walk and get ice cream and arrived in their parking lot at 8:17. They were closed. The clearly marked signs that had read Sunday: 1pm-9pm now read Sunday 1pm-8pm.
What the hell! You could have updated your signs yesterday to warn me! All I wanted is some soft-serve! I know you have it! AAAAHHHH
Now all I want is some soft-serve. And to throw a rock through their window.
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