As a kid, you wanted McDonald’s. Maybe Henry’s. That felt like a
win—bright, loud, fast, and fun. Instead, you got dragged to Bishop’s.
Not that Bishop’s Buffet was bad. It just wasn’t
cool. No Happy Meals. No noise. No reason for a kid to get excited. It was
where your parents and grandparents went.
You’d walk in already annoyed.
Then the smell hit you. Roast beef, fried chicken,
rolls, gravy, something sweet in the background. That helped.
There was a time when
fast food wasn’t something you just grabbed between errands.
You kind of
had to earn it.
Long bike
ride. Ball game. Wandering around all afternoon with nothing to do. Or hauling
a pile of return bottles down the street, hoping you didn’t drop one and lose
your lunch money.
Nobody
talked about “the experience.” Nobody cared. You were hungry. You had a little
money. That was enough.
Somehow it
always tasted better because of that.
These three
places stuck with me. They’re gone now. Most people wouldn’t even recognize the
names.
But if you
grew up with them, you don’t forget.
