You know that old tradition of placing a silver coin in the Christmas Pudding for some lucky eater to find and keep? My friend, Christine, hit the motherlode last night at the Polar King in Oakley where we were celebrating Bill's and my birthday.
We had set out for the Rhode Island Diner only to find that it was only open on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Big disappointment. So we opted for the Polar King and quickly decided to make this an annual event.
We had hamburgers and malts. During the meal, Christine let out a shrill squeak and then said, "Look," to the three of us. She held up her malt. A humongous black fly swam the front crawl through the caramel ice cream.
"You lucky thing; you won the prize," I said. "I never win anything."
We decided the fly had flown into the malt, since there were many flies circling our table. This is part of the Polar King's charm. And, of course, the roll of paper towels standing on end at each table serving as napkins added that touch of glamour that diners expect from the Polar King.
We will be returning.