Little Restaurant on the Prairie

It might be our proximity to a Greyhound station (2 blocks away), or it could be that we’re the largest city between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains, but either way you look at it, we are the go to place for Mennonites, Hutterites, and the Amish.

Take me to your leader …

I often see them wandering around the city like time travellers from the 1800’s who fear colors and zippers.  Perhaps they fell asleep in some woods playing nine pins ages ago, and have recently awoke with a gnawing hunger and a deep confusion about how nothing is as they remember.  More likely this is just a new form of hipsterism I’m completely unaware of.

Though I’ve yet to see a horse and buggy rolling down the street, on any given day a group of them can be found walking in confusion taking it all in.  They are a polite reminder of what historical reenactors look like in their regular life.

They have no idea I’ve just captured a little piece of their souls.

Here’s a conversation I had with this gentleman (Imagine a thick Germanic accent):

“I’m looking vor a restaurant.”

“What’s the name of the restaurant you’re looking for?”

“Some place mit a goud burger or sandvich.”

“There’s a burger place around the corner.”

“Tank you kindly.”

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