Surprise Scoop
It might taste like shit!
An empty purple box of a storefront recently appeared near my apartment. I assumed that, like most new storefronts in the area, it was destined to become a smoke shop or a bodega when it finally opened.
But as I walked by, I realized that it was open. There just wasn’t anything inside.
It turns out this purple box is called “Surprise Scoop,” and is an ice cream shop where you pay a machine in exchange for a mystery scoop of ice cream.
First, you walk in and pay at a kiosk on the wall.
Next, you wait for your ice cream like you’re at the DMV.
I felt the anticipation build as I waited. What would my flavor be?
My friend (the veterinarian) checked the place out a few days prior and reported that he received “some green rice flavored bullshit.”
When I asked him what green rice was, he explained simply that “it was bright green and tasted like I had my head in a bag of rice and was huffing the fumes.”
I checked Google to see what others were saying.
I’ve never had anything leave such an unpleasant taste in my mouth that it ruined my entire evening, but then again, I’ve never had “everything bagel” flavored ice cream.
I just… what?
Suddenly my friend’s “green rice flavored bullshit” didn’t sound so bad after all. I can imagine no greater middle finger to a customer willing to try a surprise ice cream shop than giving them a fistful of ice cream covered in Flaming Hot Cheetos.
What the hell was going on behind that window, anyway? Was the shop run by some sort of hunchback with a passion for ice cream, or a disfigured Phantom of the Opera-type character who didn’t want to be seen by the world?
Could they not afford ice cream scoops, or did they just like the feeling of ice cream squishing between their fingers as they grabbed a handful and dropped it into a dish?
The anticipation was killing me. There is no thrill greater than knowing you may have just paid $10 for a single scoop of everything bagel ice cream covered in red Cheeto crumbs and fingerprints.
You’re completely at the mercy of a stranger on the other side of the wall, like some sort of perverse ice cream glory hole.
Suddenly, the mysterious panel slid open.
At long last, my ice cream appeared.
I think one of them was some sort of chocolate, and the other was strawberry. Honestly, they were both pretty good and didn’t appear to be shaped by hand.
Could I have gone somewhere else with better ice cream for less money? Probably. But remember, you’re paying for the thrill of maybe hating whatever they give you, and that’s worth every penny.
“I explore you!!”