Last night, I decided to take a nice summer stroll to my local Pinkberry on 19th & 8th. Even though the Pinkberry craze is sweeping the nation, I must say, I have yet to become a convert.
But for some reason, I was craving it. And apparently, so was everyone else.
As I walked down 8th Avenue I noticed a crowd of people in the street. What I thought must be the smoking section of a boys’ bar was actually a line to get into Pinkberry! Flooding the store, down the street and practically around the corner. It was crazy.
Since I possess zero patience and a complete aversion to waiting in lines, I just walked away. Normally I would employ the blatant cut tactic, but that usually only works when there’s alcohol involved. This Fro-Yo crowd was looking tres serious, so I didn’t even attempt.
Rather than waiting, I decided I would hit up Tasti-D a few blocks up. But when walking away, I couldn’t help but feel like I had missed out on something. Like I couldn’t get into the exclusive club so I had to settle for the egalitarian one down the street. Ugh.
When I got to Tasti D-Lite the patrons were middle-aged and mildly overweight, where the Pinkberry kids were good-looking, well-dressed, young and hip. This was the frozen dessert equivalent of trying to get into Bungalow and having to settle for Home. So needless to say, I was thoroughly disappointed.
Final Word: I got the Tasti-D Double Berry with rainbow sprinkles, but it just didn’t do it for me. Pinkberry isn’t that good. Or is it? Tell me, I want to know.