Check Please

I have had some interesting occurrences throughout my life in a well known restaurant, Pizza Hut. Recently I went with my husband and some friends to have some pizza, and were a bit disappointed. We were temped for about 5 seconds to get the new pizza bites. You know, the new pizza promoted by Jessica Simpson in a commercial that was overhyped during the Superbowl (I heard she was paid $1 million for that commercial). Then reality set in of what those might be like and all the unecessary calories, and that idea was scrapped for a large mushroom with breadsticks. Our friends brought their baby along, and had him sit in a little high chair. We had polite conversation, good breadsticks, "ok" pizza, a cute baby with sauce on his face, and a waitress that had no clue. It was the typical visit to Pizza Hut.
On looking back to my childhood though, I realized I had experienced some rites of passage in that red roofed restaurant. As a kid, I actually lost a baby tooth while eating a piece of pizza. I couldn't find where the tooth went, and was convinced that I swallowed it, which totally horrified me. My Aunt took me and my siblings there that day, and she tried desparately to calm me down. We never found the tooth, but she claimed it must've landed on the floor somewhere. She told me years later that I probably did swallow it, but she didn't have the heart to tell me, plus I was crying and making a scene in the middle of the restaurant. But I think I grew up, just a little, that day.
Fast forward a few years and I'm a sophomore in high school. My date, my friends, and I had planned for a great night out before descending into the drab depths of our high school gymnasium. Our "great plans" turned into having dinner at Pizza Hut. Picture it: the gals with their dresses and fancy hairdos, and the guys in thier suits, sitting in a booth with a large pizza on the table. Classy.
As nervous as I was that night, having the pizza helped us relax and laugh more than if we went to some fancy schamcy place for dinner. I had a blast that night. I grew up, just a little, that night.
Throughout college, I'd make the occasional trip to ol' Pizza Hut, because there was a small "fast food version" of one located on the bottom floor of the building I worked in. From freshman year to graduation, to the receipt of my Masters Degree, I studied many hours in that place. I spent lots of time hearing the workers flirting with the young college girls, rapping while baking the personal pan pizzas, and the sound of the tv on the other side of the eatery set to the college television network. I grew up there, just a little, during those years.
Now I go to Pizza Hut as an adult, with a husband as a date, and little worry that I'll be losing a tooth on a piece of pizza. I can go with friend ans their 1 year old. He, however, is teething. He's growing up, just a little.