Blessed are the easygoing, the people who greet a situation not to their liking with tolerance and a touch of understanding. And then there are those who explode when the particulars don’t fit their mental script. It is to the latter that we dedicate this week’s installment of nightmares, though a commemorative sausage necklace might be more appropriate. Read on to see why.
Walk-ins with enormous teeth
Balloons and a “Grand Opening” banner just don’t cut it anymore. A restaurant that opened last week in Fitchburg, Wis., figured an alligator table, a setting given to a pair of reptiles for an evening, would be a more effective way to snag attention. For three hours during Me & Julio’s first week, a full-sized gator and a juvenile were given a corner table where customers could snap a selfie with the toothsome duo in the background.
The ploy worked—maybe too well. Consumers heard about the unusual guests, but so did the local board of health. Owner Michael Shaul pled his case to local media, noting that the gators weren’t allowed to roam the dining room, and that their visit wasn’t planned; they just happened to stop by with a handler who stages reptile shows in the area. The trainer was apparently on the premises the whole time.
Still, health authorities told the restaurant that another reptile event would not be tolerated.
The gator outing coincided with news from Florida that the young man who tossed a small squirmer through the window of Wendy’s drive-thru last year had been sentenced to a year’s probation for his prank.
Meatheads armed with kielbasa
If Lady Gaga can sport a meat dress, why shouldn’t anti-vegetarians don a sausage necklace and other protein accessories to make a point? That would have been fine if they weren’t also brandishing kielbasa, fishes and grilled meat, which they proceeded to hurl at patrons of a vegan restaurant in the Eastern European nation of Georgia.
The Kiwi-Café said (according to translations of its Facebook post) that the demonstrators were neo-Nazis who don’t like the establishment’s meatless menu and acceptance of gay, lesbian and transgender patrons.
The place has vowed to stay open, even though neighbors jumped into the fracas on the side of the meat-lobbing protestors.
Crips and Bloods have nothing over NYC's soft-serve scene
Foodservice entrepreneurs in New York City are dealing with a nightmare right out of “The Sopranos.” Anyone who’s spent summers there knows the streets are flooded with trucks selling soft-serve ice cream. The competition has always been keen, but nothing like it was this week, where rivals hunkered down for an old-fashioned turf war.
On one side is Mister Softee, a longtime favorite whose theme song, chimed out from the trucks as they drive or park, can be hummed by many a New Yorker. Its right to ply midtown, a prime market, is being challenged by a newcomer called New York Ice Cream. When a Mister Softee pulls up to the curb at lunchtime, it’s likely to be surrounded by a group of New York Ice Cream drivers, many of them alumni of Mister Softee. They pound on the windows and threaten whoever is at the wheel of the rival vehicle, according to a report in the New York Times.
Mister Softee has encouraged its drivers to stand up for their rights, but the threat of violence has deterred them, according to the Times report. It’s resigned itself to the what was termed the rules of the street.