The Cafeteria

Why is it that whenever you make a mistake, your family takes pleasure in reminding you of how you messed up? It’s been over twenty years since our family travelled for four months through Europe, but every time we discuss the trip, someone inevitably mentions my decision to have dinner at The Cafeteria.

The infamous event took place one month into our travels, right after my wife Michelle and our three sons, Brett, Keegan, and Alexander had visited Paris. It was a dreary winter day and the initial excitement of leaving school behind to explore foreign countries had worn off. Everyone was longing for the comforts of home, particularly home-cooked meals and comfy beds. We were also at loose ends because we had to wait another week before we could take a break from constant travel and settle into a house we had rented for six weeks in southern France. For the next week, our plan was to drive a little every day, discover an activity, and then resume driving until we located suitable accommodations for the night. 

That morning, we explored the city of Colmar, known for its medieval architecture, before heading off in our van to find a place to stay and eat. When we found nothing soon after leaving Colmar, Michelle suggested we turn around, but I felt confident we’d find a restaurant up ahead. What a mistake that turned out to be! Despite driving for over an hour, we still hadn’t found a restaurant. After every bend in the road, I hoped to stumble upon a small village, only to be met with disappointment. By now, it was dark, and drizzling rain, and everyone was growing hungry and impatient. It didn’t help that Keegan and Brett were teenagers, and their stomachs often dictated their moods. 

I was desperate to find a place to eat, and that’s when I noticed the neon sign for The Cafeteria at a gas station. I can still vividly recall the glowing sign reflecting off the wet parking lot with only two vehicles parked in front. Though everyone had doubts about my choice, I decided to check it out while they waited inside the van.

True to its name, The Cafeteria was indeed a cafeteria-style restaurant. The restaurant was clean, with lots of tables available, and the food smelled delicious. As a bonus, it was remarkably affordable. Everything seemed perfect to me, so I returned to the van and told everyone to come in. Michelle was still reluctant, but Brett, Keegan, and Alexander desperately wanted to eat and went along with my decision. 

The absence of customers and the affordable price should have been evidence to continue driving and search for another location. The smell of food obviously clouded my judgement. We made our choices at the buffet and sat down to eat, when reality struck. My hamburger must have been sitting under the heat lamp all day: it was a rubbery, tasteless hunk of meat smothered in a disgusting tasting sauce. Keegan described his meal as a piece of a limp fried fish swimming in a tartar sauce. In her diary, Michelle wrote “Ugh!” to describe her chicken dish, and I wrote that the food was a disgrace to French cuisine. 

Our awful day didn’t end at The Cafeteria—we still had an hour’s drive before finding a place to sleep. When we finally found a hotel, it was over our budget, but we didn’t care–we just wanted the day to be over. When we finally unpacked, it was very late, and everyone was grumpy. Before turning out the lights, I wrote in my diary that I should have returned to Colmar like Michelle had suggested.  

That day ended up being the absolute lowest point of our entire trip. However, years later, my family now fondly remembers eating at The Cafeteria. It seems as if they’ve forgotten the homesickness we felt, choosing instead to have a good laugh and reminisce about the food unsuitable for human consumption. In retrospect, I no longer regret my decision, no matter how much my family enjoys reminding me how I messed up. As it turns out, it was also the misadventures that made our trip a memorable family experience.