Chapter Six - Dairy Queen and the Sweetest Memory

CHAPTER SIX

Dairy Queen and the Sweetest Memory

AH, DAIRY QUEEN. A banger. An absolute cornerstone of small-town life.

I had two Dairy Queens growing up. The first, tragically, closed its doors. But the second? A little farther away, but still sacred ground. It became a cornerstone of my childhood... and, believe it or not, of my formative years.

I had my first kiss inside that Dairy Queen. Yeah, you heard me right. High school. Late summer night. My buddy, forever the instigator, asked a girl we were hanging out with if she wanted to give me my first kiss.
For some reason, she said yes.
Boop. Just a quick little boop.
Nothing wild, nothing romantic, just a hilarious, awkward teenage memory that somehow became permanently attached to Dairy Queen in my mind.

But let’s get to the real star: the ice cream.
Dairy Queen does not mess around. From Blizzards to cones to those perfect chocolate-dipped soft serves, it’s ice cream royalty.

I have a confession: I’m a chocolate guy.
Vanilla? I respect you. You’ve done a lot for the culture. But I’m just not reaching for you. I want bold flavor. Chocolate always wins in my book.

I even worked at Dairy Queen one summer. It was actually fun... until I scraped my calf on a metal fixture. I bled, a lot. I still have the scar to this day. Battle wounds, baby. Badge of honor.

Dairy Queen taught me two things:

1. Ice cream fixes just about anything.
2. The sweetest memories are sometimes the messiest.

And now I definitely need ice cream after writing this.