For what seemed to be the longest time, the only major fast-food chain in my Dallas suburb was Dairy Queen. It had no competition, or so it seemed to me as a little kid in the 1960s and early ’70s—until McDonald’s and all the rest came to our town. Dairy Queen was on the other side of town from where my family lived. For a 6-year-old kid, it was a big treat to get to go out to eat every once in awhile, and Dairy Queen had ice cream! The next few years spent dining at Dairy Queen, I collected many fond if not fuzzy memories of a bygone era.
When I was a young reader, I noticed a large poster on the Dairy Queen wall near a booth where we’d sit. The poster was of the Dairy Queen girl, dressed in Dutch attire, holding a public decree that displayed “The Queen’s Rules.” I learned several big words reading the rules at Dairy Queen. One was ‘profanity.’ “Mom, what does proh-fan-eye-tee mean?” And Mom explained, “That means no,” she stopped to continue softly, “cuss words.” Seeing my confused innocence, Mom would have to give me some examples of bad words so I’d know what not to say inside Dairy Queen. My parents didn’t cuss much; well, Mom had her two choice words so we’d know when she was extremely mad about something. In those days, cuss words were never spoken on TV, which was all network, pre-cable and pre-DeNiro.
Another big word for me was ‘loitering,’ a real trouble word as I attempted pronunciation. “Mom, what does lo-eye-teh-ring mean?” And Mom would explain, “That means no one should be hanging around here without buying something to eat or drink.” Oh, I see. I learned at an early age that restaurants were no place to hang out without purchasing food or drinks.
Bell bottoms, bare feet and halter tops
As I grew a bit older, around 8, I clearly realized the generation gap between parents and teens. Dairy Queen was a ‘happening’ on Friday and Saturday nights. I liked to go at those times and people-watch, especially any hippies I might spot. They were called freaks back then: usually bare footed with torn jeans or short-short cut off jeans, girls in halters (that meant no bra!). The high school teens and young adults played the absolute coolest songs on the jukebox: “Green Eyed Lady,” “One,” “American Woman,” “Cross Eyed Mary,” “How Many More Times”—a real hard rock concert, man! The older teens were so cool. I couldn’t wait to join them in ten years.
But they also were rude and loud: guys horsing around, dating couples who couldn’t keep their hands off each other then kissing—wooooo. Actually, I was kinda embarrassed to see that sort of thing. I didn’t understand—hormones still a mystery of life.
“No dr-uh-gs or al-ko-hahl,” I continued reading from the Queen’s Rules to Mom. I knew nothing about drugs. But once in awhile among the teen crowd, a loopy guy would float about giddily. Maybe he was on something. Because smoking was allowed, teens openly smoked cigarettes inside the restaurant, some laughing loudly, carrying on with their crowd, having fun, eating, drinking and being merry.
“No loo-woo-d cohn-duk-t,” I read aloud. “What’s lewd?” Mom explained about appropriate dress and behavior, pointing out a teen couple who was on their way to a full make-out session. My nose crinkled in disgust as I’d remark, “Ooooooo.”
The Queen rules
Even as a kid, I figured the Queen’s Rules were put in place because of the growing Woodstock counter culture: the loud rock music, the long hair, the penchant to go bare foot, the suspected drug use, and the psychedelic clothes, halters, short-shorts, and touchy-feely coupling. It seemed all this was inappropriate inside Dairy Queen because it went against the Queen’s Rules. I followed the rules, because I was 8 and Mom was sitting across from me in the booth. The older teens rockin’ Dairy Queen were unaccompanied by their parents. Having their old ladies around would have put a damper on their … freedom. Yet through the years, I noticed the Queen’s Rules had been taken down at most Dairy Queens for some reason.
So when I heard about the Starbucks’ incident whereby two men asked to use the restroom without purchasing anything, I did not think the business unkind or unfair. If anyone can sit at Starbucks, small yet cozy coffee shops, and not be obligated to purchase coffee or something to consume, that’s news to me. The race factor may have contributed to a manager’s rush to call the cops within minutes of the men asking to use the facilities sans purchase. But why didn’t one of the men buy a cup of coffee, tea, bottled water or soft drink? Starbucks is not a public lounge, after all, but a business. They exist to make money off everyone who enters. How did we lose sight of that? Is Starbucks to blame for its casual, laid-back atmosphere?
When traveling the highways and heeding nature’s call by stopping at a gas station or restaurant to use a restroom, the courteous thing to do is purchase something before we leave. Doing otherwise would be rude of us. Taking advantage of any business, no matter how world renowned and prosperous, is impolite. Kudos to Starbucks for nipping what is perceived by the masses to be race discrimination among staff. Shame on those who jumped on Starbucks to protest what may not have been a purely racist intention.
In the near future, Starbucks should take a cue from 1970s’ Dairy Queen. Evidently, time has come today for restaurants to once again publicly post their own set of patron rules and expectations—so everyone knows and understands we ought not take advantage of a spot that’s open for business.