What is Dairy Barn?
1.
A hole-in-the-wall ice cream parlor housed in a dilapidated barn, using outdated machines running on a prayer, 39 flavors of ice cream that are rarely in stock, and the only business in the world that is actually owned and run by a chimpanzee with a superiority complex.
Located in the sphincter of nowhere in Big Flats, New York, there is a large and rather ugly looking barn, hastily sprayed a rust red, complete with crumbling hay silos that is home to the Dairy Barn. I had heard of the great reputation this place had, so I decided to go take a visit. The parking lot closely resembles Al Fallujah after the American troops were through with it. The interior of this establishment, should you be so brave to enter, looks like a bunch of hillbillies tried to create their own Olive Garden. A crudely lain and painted concrete floor with a cracking and peeling surface makes walking a hazard. The tables are wobbly and finished in a faux-woodgrain plastic, complete with their own mismatched crystal salt and pepper shakers to go along with the food cooked on a worn and rusty grill that has seen more years than Joan Rivers. The menu board is nothing more than a cardboard sheet, leaned up against the wall and fairly unreadable due to half of it being wiped away. After waiting in a line for 20 minutes, youll be able to place an order to an employee, either a high-schooler, or a short, extremely unpleasant woman, trying to recapture her lost youth through mascara and a ridiculous hairstyle who constantly talks with her mouth full and yelling about the business changing ownership and her ice cream sizes being twice as big as any competitor. If you place an order with her, you may be placed on hold as she talks to someone on the phone, or wanders away to talk to someone she knows within the room. After waiting in this line and reach the register, you are told by this woman you could have skipped the line entirely and simply placed your order at the least convenient takeout window ever created. The pass-through window is barely a foot wide, making any sort of trade-off extremely complicated and less than four feet off the ground so that the employees and the customers have to practically squat on the ground to talk to one another. There are often two small children running about the place, harrassing the employees inside the Employees Only section, leading you to believe they are the uncouth and unintelligent offspring of the arrogant and unsophisticated owner who obviously has no sense of decency and class. Only at this establishment can you expect to spend well over twenty dollars on ice cream, closely resembling goopy mountains haggardly balanced onto stale and crumbly cones, all the while being confronted by the owner that she was the best lick in town. Venturing to the Dairy Barn is an event that should be experienced by everyone, much like the Running of the Bulls, and they are equally painful.
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