Sometimes it isn’t the food.
Sometimes it isn’t the company.
Sometimes it isn’t even the location.
And every once in a while…
You hit the trifecta.
The food.
The company.
The location.
Those are the meals you remember.
Sure, you can drop $200 at some fancy-smancy restaurant where the waiter explains your mashed potatoes like they’re a family heirloom.
That’s nice.
But I’m talking about the meals you’ll still be talking about twenty years later.
My Top 3 are, in no particular order:
1. Sitting on a curb in Times Square at midnight eating a slice of pizza.
2. Sitting on a bench on the Rehoboth Boardwalk eating Thrasher’s French Fries.
3. Standing at a trash can in EPCOT eating…well…anything.
I know.
One of those doesn’t belong.
Or does it?
Years ago, Kate and Lisa went to see a show, leaving Charlotte and me to survive New York City on our own.
We found a little pizza place selling two slices and two cans of Pepsi for ten bucks.
Charlotte asked,
“Are we taking it back to the room?”
I looked around Times Square at midnight and said,
“Oh, hell no.”
We sat right there on the curb.
Pizza.
Pepsi.
And I’m a Coke guy.
But brands don’t matter to a memory.
People watching.
For thirty minutes, we watched New York do what New York does.
Tourists.
Street performers.
People who were either millionaires…or hadn’t showered in three weeks.
Sometimes both.
Maybe Charlotte remembers that night.
Maybe she doesn’t.
But I do.
Then there’s Thrasher’s.
Now we’re talking.
The girls were finally old enough to roam around Funland without us having to follow them every ten feet yelling, “DON’T DIE!”
So Lisa and I found a bench.
Ordered a medium fry.
Yes to the salt.
Absolutely yes to the vinegar.
And then we played one of our favorite games.
“Guess what they do for a living.”
It’s amazing how entertaining complete strangers become when you have hot French fries and nowhere to be.
Then there’s EPCOT.
EPCOT has amazing restaurants.
But let’s be honest.
Nobody goes to EPCOT during Food & Wine to sit in a restaurant.
You bounce from country to country buying one little plate at a time.
A taco from Mexico.
Sushi from Japan.
A baguette from France.
Something you’ve never heard of in Morocco.
And after spending eighty-seven dollars on six things that together equal one normal meal…
…you need somewhere to eat.
Enter…
The EPCOT trash can.
Before anybody starts typing an angry comment…
Those trash cans are cleaner than most kitchen counters.
Disney doesn’t mess around.
Those flat tops were the unofficial dining tables of EPCOT.
If you knew…
You knew.
Bonus points if you found one in the shade.
That wasn’t just lunch.
That was winning.
Sadly…
Disney has started replacing many of those beautiful flat-topped trash cans with rounded ones.
Rounded.
Apparently somebody looked at perfection and thought,
“You know what this needs?
Less table.”
I’m against it.
Strongly against it.
I think a letter-writing campaign is in order.
Not an angry letter.
Just…firm.
Maybe with a few highlighted sections.
Fine dining is great.
But nobody looks back and says,
“Remember how symmetrical the parsley garnish was?”
They remember sitting on a curb in Times Square.
They remember sharing fries on a boardwalk bench.
They remember standing around a trash can in EPCOT.
Because the older I get, the more I realize memories don’t come with reservations.
Sometimes…
They come with pizza.
Sometimes they come with French fries.
And sometimes…
They come with a trash can.
My Take on Life and Events 