I love these slices of America that feel vintage, as if some spirit has been preserved. Before buildings and downtowns get makeovers, before small ranch houses get torn down and replaced by luxury condos, before Mom and Pop shops give way to malls and other developments. It feels nice to run into something original. Even if it’s as simple as ice cream on a Saturday night.

One of the first things I thought upon entering the Museum of Ice Cream was that it was clearly designed for people much younger than I am. And I'm not even that old. The kind of place that's dripping with whimsy. The kind of place with bottlenecks around every corner while each person takes a selfie in literally every room.

They are a downright force, these Buster Bars. Anything from Dairy Queen, really. We're talking about the only fast food option I had as a kid, and the one for which I (still) feel the most amount of affection and loyalty. My neighbors and I used to throw together all manner of fundraising activities as kids, all in the name of getting ourselves to the DQ.