"Strike One"

Spoken to my wife as I slammed into the locked right side of a double door at a certain, almagamated breakfast restaurant in Park Ridge. The experience: the largest "only could be that big in America" spit like omelet I've ever encountered, sad undercooked shredded potatoes, a lox plate where the cream cheese was ice cold and in a sealed package. They wanted money for this.  Someday I hope to  fully understand why one door must be locked on double doors. I also hope to understand why some people don't just sell shoes - why must it be food?