Sno Biz

Little did I know, a wee pup growing up in Waxahachie, what a gem we had in Sno Biz. I weep for those who didn’t grow up with a real, live, shaved ice snow cone stand in their midst. I spent at least every other day, eagerly standing in line with my two bucks waiting to order my «number two flat top sunset with medium juice». I found myself back in the ‘Hatch this past weekend and it hit me like a ton of bricks… SNO BIZ.
The parking lot is a bit bigger, still with the tree growing in the middle of it, but it was exactly as I remembered it from high school 15 years ago. Same signage, same menu, same guy with the moustache, same sweet smell resonating out the window. My snow cone was ordered with the phrase I remembered and with the first slurp I was brought back to my high school days, kissing boys with red, snow cone tinged lips and sunburns.
This time I drove it home the 30 minutes back to Dallas and mixed in a shot of vodka. Time for grown up memories now, baby.