When in Rome dine as the Romans.
A foundational part of growing up in Utah is listening to newly arrived Californian’s complain about the lack of In-N-Out Burgers. It was exhibit #1 that Utah was a backwater and anyone moving there from the glamorous land of Fresno, or maybe San Bernardino, was indeed suffering some sort of cruel banishment.
I have till recently remained above the fray. Intentionally ignorant.
Like I said, till recently.
The menu looked simple enough. I assumed this was the sort of place that only did a few things but did them very well. Free market specialization at its finest. Double double, fries, and chocolate shake for me, burgers for the kids. Done. Easy.
Shortly after we ate, I posted the above picture on Facebook along with the question,” If this wasn’t my favorite thing in the world do they kick me out of California?”
And then the Archduke Ferdinand dropped dead.
The Maginot line was crossed, France fell, and trenches were dug on both sides.
This online dustup was a digital version of some shirtless kid slapping a “Locals Only” sticker on my windshield ala 1987. It was much like my first weeks in Philly when my wife and I strolled into this pizza place, Tacinelli’s, that everyone said was the best. No one told us you have to call and order a day in advance and as a result we were treated poorly and given a burnt pie.
We never gave it a second try.
I’m a team player who learns from mistakes. I’m not one to place crippling sanctions on a defeated Germany giving rise to a moustached maniac. So in that spirit I pass along the unwritten rules, the insiders only, the key to the cool club; its called “animal style”.
I have still yet to publish an actual opinion. But definitive statements have never been needed in online wars.
Brohammas 