Meltdowns at Applebees

Once mandates were established, Christian and I had a new level of accountability and motivation to push ourselves creatively. We felt invincible, conquering one goal after another, and it was exhilarating to see the progress we were making. The more we pushed ourselves, the more we craved the sweet taste of achievement. But when we weren’t writing or practicing music, we found ourselves with a lot of free time on our hands. And that’s when the mall became our sanctuary. It all started as just a casual way to kill time and browse the stores. But soon, it became a ritual for us. Almost every week, we’d embark on our pilgrimage to the mall, hitting up every hip store available. We’d immerse ourselves in the kaleidoscope of colors and textures, trying on clothes that ranged from sleek and sophisticated to the downright absurd. It was a way for us to express ourselves, to explore our personalities and tastes. And with each new outfit, we felt like we were discovering a new side of who we were. We’d also spend hours checking out new gadgets and gizmos, marveling at the latest technological advancements. But no trip to the mall was complete without a stop at our favorite sanctuary: Applebees. At first, it was just another restaurant, a place where we could grab a quick bite to eat. But over time, it transformed into our own personal haven. We’d sit at the same table every time, nestled in the cozy corner near the window, where we could watch the world go by. We’d order the same meals, savoring the familiar taste of our favorites, the comforting embrace of nostalgia on our taste buds. We quickly became regulars, striking up conversations with the staff who started to recognize us. We’d share stories and jokes with them, exchanging laughter like currency. They became a part of our story, a part of the tapestry that was our life at that time. But our favorite part of the meal was always dessert. We would always finish each mandate with a triple chocolate meltdown, a decadent tower of chocolatey indulgence that seemed to defy gravity. Its molten core would ooze out onto the plate, like lava from a volcano, mingling with the cool embrace of the vanilla ice cream. It became our way of rewarding ourselves for a job well done, the perfect way to end our days before heading back to the gritty streets of Bushwick.