I walked inside with my kids in tow, and before the door whooshed shut a teenager behind the counter shouted,
"Hey there! Welcome to Bippys!" Another grinned as wide as the Mississippi and hollered, "Great to see you here at Bippys!"
Then a well-dressed grown-up (a visiting executive by my calculation)
bellowed, "Welcome to Bippys! How may I serve you?" Other voices echoed from the recesses of the kitchen.
The counter guy demanded an instant decision. We'd been inside for about eight seconds, and I was
trailing two children whose summer hobby is standing in front of an open refrigerator crammed with food while muttering, "There's nothing to eat." If I was lucky, they'd make their choices before New Year's Eve.
And
there were too many choices. About 320 different "combos" lined the menu, all of which could be upgraded, upsized and up-priced. The guy in the business clothes stood with a Flipper-sized grin and a little plastic tray,
awaiting our choices.
We were the only customers, compared to the 482 people behind the counter, give or take a dozen. And they were smiling like they were in the Miss America pageant. All those teeth were
throwing me. I'm not accustomed to receiving the undivided attention of so many counter personnel.
I had a legion of excruciatingly happy counter and kitchen types holding their breaths to see whether I'd
choose the number six or the number eight combo. And whether I'd upsize it, or add a dessert. It was a moment of high drama, and, I must confess, the pressure got to me.
"Would you like to try the Bippy Burger
Special?" the happy counter guy prodded.
"Uh, no. I'll just have a small salad," I said. I'm sure he was disappointed, but the smile never slipped.
"Yes, ma'am. One Bippy salad coming up!" he shouted.
The kids ordered, we grabbed our trays and made our collective ways to the table. As I prepared to bite into the lettuce, an employee popped up at my elbow.
"Would you like some more Bippy salad dressing?" he asked.
I shook my head and he bounded, Errol Flynn-like, across the room, returning three additional times to check the progress of our meal. We hurried
through it and started to sneak out, hoping to avoid another attack by the Cheerios, but as soon as we drew even with the front counter everyone went into overdrive.
"Thanks for coming to Bippys!" "Have a
wonderful Bippy day!" "Great having you here at Bippys!" "Come back to Bippys soon!" "Glad we could serve you here at Bippys!"
We trudged to the car, passing another family headed inside. I shook my head. Poor
people. They were about to be chippered to death by people with Bippy-sized brains. I climbed in and, just as I was pulling out of the parking lot, another guy almost ran into me, made a less-than-polite gesture, then
drove away. That's when it came to me: We'd finally escaped Bippyville in all its extraneous good cheer.
We were back in Kansas again.
