Our next stop was at Zellar’s Village Inn in Newberry, MI for lunch. Zellar’s was attached to a motel and wasn’t a standout from the outside. Once again, we seated ourselves, carefully choosing a booth near the window because—well, because it was close to where we were standing. One would think that, given the casual and laissez-faire seating arrangements, we’d opt for something wild, but never let it be said that we Rowlands cannot restrain ourselves. Though, honestly, at least one of the boys is going to be asked to sit at a separate table if he can’t refrain from kicking the parent opposite him in the shins.
The restaurant was a little rundown in the heel but still had plenty of wear left. It was quiet when we arrived; the waitress was pleasant with a very clearly Upper Peninsula accent. Delightfully enough, Chris and Katherine discovered Reuben sandwiches on the menu, and the boys found cheese pizza. We placed our orders and waited. And waited. For almost half an hour. Meanwhile, a large group of just-past-middle-aged ladies came in and talked loudly about grandbabies and shopping and the things that ladies of a certain age discuss when they’re in their own stomping grounds. They also hailed newcomers loudly when they recognized said newcomers, which was always. Meanwhile, the restaurant staff carried on a lively debate regarding cell phone plans.
At last, our lunch arrived. The food was reasonable. Not noteworthy; pleasant, but noncommittal, like the gal at the school who likes you but doesn’t like like you.