Buffet the Campfire Slayer
Magical places drenched in toddler drool and a constant overhead glow. Any staff you see are mostly cleaning rather than serving, giving the impression that they’re always in the middle of closing for the night.
Any time you look up from your food and over the top of the adjacent booth, steel yourself:
These places are the domain of staring babies. Prepare to feel strangely convicted, defenseless and strange.
Also, remember the tricks any halfway decent brother/sister pair works out by the time they turn 5 or 6:
When navigating the mischief-inspiring confines of the buffet, remember to keep your wits about you. What I mean by that is:
Do not use the dessert bowls for dessert. Any buffet-goer worth their knox blox cubes knows that the soup bowls are the only way to go. The dessert dishes are shallow, and often very warm. They don’t hold much ice cream, and what they do hold will melt too soon. The soup bowls, are deep and cold, like the river that runs through a woman’s heart.
Hotels and mini-golf courses are two other forgotten realms, for anyone who is between their own early youth and having children of their own. Maybe I’ll write on one of those soon.
