Our neighborhood pizza joint recently started serving breakfast, starting at 7 in the morning on the weekends no less. Perfect for us, given our early schedules and our laziness in wanting to stray too far from home. I owed Aaron a one-on-one time this month and decided Sunday would be a great day for a Huang boys breakfast out.
Alas, the outing was a bit of a dud. When we arrived at 7:05, the one worker there looked at me funny. I broke the uncomfortable silence by asking, "You're open, right?" With a look of confusion and annoyance, he replied that they were technically open but nothing had been fired up yet, and that things would take about a half-hour.
We decided to go next door to CVS to buy some essentials, and then return about 20 minutes later to wait inside and review the new breakfast menu. By then, the main guy had arrived, and he gave the same sort of answer, as if I shouldn't expect them to be ready right when the doors opened. Um, isn't that what "open at 7" means?
With time ticking away, we converted our breakfast out to breakfast to go, and repaired home to eat in the warmth of our own kitchen. Aaron still enjoyed sitting in the pizza parlor while we waited for the food to be made - "Dances with Wolves" was on and he was into it. (Insert joke here about him being the only one to respond thusly since the movie opened.) But we didn't get the same bonding experience I had hoped for, two guys talking shop over bacon and eggs. Oh well, maybe next time we'll wait until the place has been open a good 45 minutes before heading over.