This stop's account comes from my good friend and "LJ BFF 4-Eva!", Becca. Becca's been a friend of mine for roughly eight and a half years, and a fan of Steak 'n Shake for what I can only assume to be nine and a half years. We met at Butler, through the marching band (and subsequently Band Greek programs), and Becca was a year older than me. Thus my math -- which is actually more Becca's forte than mine. While I studied writing (Ta-da, a BLOG!), she studied useful things. Which is a fantastic segue into her selected title for her post, which is evidence of those things she understands ....
Stop #(Square Root of -1) -- Because Sometimes I Think Illinois is Imaginary
I adore Steak ‘n Shake.
No, really. I dream of Frisco melts, cheese fries, chili, and the orange dreamsicle shake (side-by-side shake consisting of orange freeze and vanilla).
Why do I dream of these wondrous, delicious foods?
Because I live in Minnesota. And Minnesota does not have a single Steak ‘n Shake ... anywhere.
Something is very wrong with this, and not just because there is no Steak ‘n Shake in sight so therefore it isn’t right. Minnesotans love food! If you need any proof, go Google the Minnesota State Fair and learn about our obsession about food on a stick. (Without spending my entire life doing a ton of research, I can report there were 81 different vendors at the fair last year which had some sort of food on a stick.)
But the cherry on top as to why Minnesota needs a Steak ‘n Shake is provided by the picture below:
That Cherry on a Spoon, my Steak ‘n Shake loving friends, is located in the fair city of Minneapolis which is appropriately located in the great state of Minnesota.
And so, Steak ‘n Shake executives who I KNOW are reading this blog, how can you resist? Think of all the marketing strategies related to shakes you could use with a city that has a giant cherry on a spoon! It’s genius!
Alas, no enterprising franchiser has attempted a Steak ‘n Shake up here in the north, so I have to resort to getting my Frisco melt fix anytime I’m on a road trip near a Steak ‘n Shake.
This brings me to the evening of March 2nd, 2012. I had recently (read: earlier that evening) arrived in the greater Chicago area (read: a suburb) after driving through inclement weather (read: snowstorm in southern Wisconsin) for a weekend of debauchery and wickedness (read: original plan was bar-hopping, but most of us ended up going to see Butler lose a basketball game against Valparaiso instead - we have our priorities). My gracious host and I had just been joined by two endeavoring friends from Indiana (including the owner of this very blog) and a consensus was reached: time for a Steak ‘n Shake run!
As two of the members of this run had been to the Glendale Heights restaurant previously (see this interlude post from July 2011), we decided to go to the restaurant in Downer’s Grove.
If you have been paying attention (which I’m sure you are), you believe we had four members in our merry group. However, you would be wrong. We had five:
He was a small little guy, very quiet, fond of fedoras, and not hungry at all. He just wanted some water in exchange for the fun excursion.
He was, however, very photogenic and not afraid to show it off. He joined in many of our pictures.
Firstly, the “gangsters with fedoras”:
(Interlude: Yes, I am in that picture. I’m on the right with the horrible fashion sense of wearing a black fedora with a brown hooded sweatshirt. You may recognize me from such stops as #2, #3, and #39.) (Also, you’re probably sick of me being that one person from Minnesota who comments on every single one of the blog entries.)
Secondly, the old people:
(Interlude #2: Okay, okay, Rachel and Kathy are really not that old. They’re just older than Marcy and I. Thus, old.)
My dinner was my basic standard, a Frisco melt with fries. I have yet to find anything in Minnesota that even comes close to the composition of a Frisco melt.
During our dinner, we played the Steak ‘n Shake story game. Here is the end result, because you know you want to read it:
Blue crayons and unicorns are captivating.
Most unicorns eat chilidogs.
For chilidogs gave them their magic flying powers.
After swallowing their chilidogs whole, they leapt high into the sky and flew east.
Percival flew with a wombat on the back of a paranoid unicorn.
He was searching for the missing horn.
The horn was found inside a tuba!
“How did that get there?” the bird wondered.
“Peel back the crayon wrapper before sharpening the crayon,” responded the hyena, he he he he!
The hyena leapt for joy at his great discovery.
He leapt so high he touched the moon.
That’s what she said.
Throwing babies is not an option. It was dark and they were big, like angry blowfish.
Unless the babies deserved it.
And in Muck’s world, they always deserve it.
Because they deserved it, everyone else rejoiced.
And there was partying in ALL the land!
And because of our diminutive guest, we gnome-ified ALL the things!
Well, maybe not all the things. Maybe just the sign.
All in all, a great Steak ‘n Shake outing had occurred, and this Minnesotan got her frisco melt.
Until next time, Steak ‘n Shake.
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