Big Guy learned an important lesson. Don't treat the family to Crown Candy Kitchen and expect them to be anything but worthless for the remainder of the day. While Birdie skipped out on this new family tradition, the rest of us scarfed BLTs and milkshakes. It's going to take at least 48 hours to bring our blood levels anywhere close to not dripping with oil. During that time, should we be attacked by a grizzly bear, we'll know we deserved it as our every pore exudes a bacon fragrance. Our adventure was totally worth it, although next time I may ask the waitress to hold the lettuce and tomato--and perhaps the bread, too. I'm forward-thinking to how I might be able to squeeze in a piece of Crown Candy chocolate. I'm also going to invest in some substantial "wouldn't be caught dead in" stretch pants. I'll save them just for my trips to Crown Candy Kitchen, and maybe the Donut Palace. In fact, I'll buy some extra pairs of pants to sell out of the trunk. Chances are, other clientele of these establishments will wish they'd thought harder about their wardrobe. 
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