Another Letter of Praise to Dairy Queen Corporate

Dear Dairy Queen,

Four years ago I was involved in a terrifying automobile accident in front of Dairy Queen #117. We were passing through the intersection of Osterberg and James, without a care in the world, when a bus carrying folks bound for the outlet mall ran the red light and t-boned my late model Cutlass Supreme.

My sister, strapped into the passenger seat beside me, was killed instantly. In fact, her body was cut in half upon impact, and before blacking out I saw her legs go sailing across the cinderblock wall in front of Sleepy’s Mattress Center.

The next few minutes were chaotic to say the least. I’m not even certain if some of the things I believe I witnessed, actually happened.

For instance, I’m almost sure I saw a man on fire, even though there was no explosion. I also recall a woman screaming hysterically, running through the streets with a full dashboard rammed through her torso. Is that even possible? And for many months I would become extremely agitated if someone dared dispute my claim that Bill Cosby was there, on horseback.

Now I’m not so sure…

One thing I’m absolutely sure about, though, is the kindness of the persons working at Dairy Queen #117. They were on the scene at once, administering CPR, tying off stumps, and passing out coupons good for one free regular sized cone.

Even though most of us didn’t know each other before the accident, and were quite literally thrown together by circumstance, the survivors of that day became a battle-hardened band of brothers, the Dairy Queen our rec hall.

I don’t remember whose idea it was, but almost immediately we began conducting monthly reunions. Some had no interest in participating, I guess it was too difficult, but most of us met at store #117 on the day of the crash each month.

There were no formal agendas to these meetings, we’d just get together to see how the others were doing, and offer support if we could. Over time we became close friends.

The manager of #117, Bill Mangus, has been an absolute sweetheart, as well. He treats us all like VIPs and tends to our every need. Sometimes he even wedges a complimentary Buster Bar into Danny’s hand during his hourly seizures, so he has a nice surprise when he comes to. Dairy Queen’s role in our emotional healing and recovery can not be overstated.

And the laughter! Oh, it feels so good to laugh after such an ordeal. At a recent meeting, for instance, Roy got a Mister Misty cup jammed in the drive train of his electric wheelchair, and there was a whole room full of cripples jerking and twitching and trying to wave the smoke away.

I didn’t think I’d ever stop laughing!

Dairy Queen, I have some trouble admitting this, but I’m much happier today than at any point before the tragedy. I’ve never been very good at meeting people, and sincerely treasure the warm and loving relationships I’ve fostered as a result of the crash.

Of course I wish my sister were still with us, but if I were forced to choose… I honestly don’t know which way I’d go. Truth be told, she wasn’t a very nice person. I feel guilty remembering things as they were, instead of some revised post-death version, but my sister was, in fact, a snooty little bitch.

So, thank you Dairy Queen for the wonderful hospitality; you’ve helped us put a happy face on unthinkable tragedy. If my sister had to be cut clean in half, her legs flying through the air and casting a shadow as they passed in front of the sun, it couldn’t have happened in a better place!

Jennifer

Previous letters: here and here.