Never Happens in LA

There's a security guard checking IDs at the front door of the Buffalo Wild Wings in downtown Detroit.

(In fairness, there's guards at the B-Dubs in the suburbs, as well.)

On my way out, this man was sitting on a stool tearing into an ice cream sundae. 

An aside: Let me tell you about me and ice cream: That Saturday, the third one in October, Dairy Queen on 9 Mile was open, and a sign out front said there was a Sweetest Day Special.  (This is a holiday, I swear, in like 3 out of 50 states) It was cold, rainy and windy, yet I made my parents hit a U-Turn, I got out of the car and walked to the window and actually paid for everyone's ice cream just so I can have some.

Anyways, brotha man was getting down with that hot fudge sundae, and I yelled, "Dang, that look good!"

"So do you," he responded.

This never happens in LA. (Along with rain.)