Looks good, but be ready for a wait
Looks good, but be ready for a wait

The Line at Steel City Pops Makes No Sense

Dear Steel City Pops,

First, I want you to know I love you. On a hot day, one of your fruity pops is the pinnacle of refreshment; I can't eat it fast enough. An avocado pop, with its creamy tang, would be a treat no matter the weather, and I'm convinced that delicious coffee pop provides a significant boost. I love you so much I favorably reviewed you in a column that's normally reserved for restaurants. You: a little popsicle stand, with only one product.

But there's a problem and it is keeping me from eating all the delicious pops I would otherwise. It's the line. It's INSANE. I absolutely can't understand it. It starts at the counter, stretches out the door before it turns, and at times runs all the way to Prospect Avenue. There might be a hundred people in that line, which you think would not be a problem, but it's enough to keep my inconsolable popsicle paws at bay.

We're not waiting for meticulously smoked brisket. And nobody's asking me if I want a chocolate ganache dip or a custom freeze. It's just, "What will you have," and then scissors shear cellophane before the epic struggle between satiation and brain freeze begins. What's taking so long? I think you should consider an alternate delivery system. Pops delivered by gatling gun, perhaps, or maybe by army of carts that line both sides of the street?

Or, I don't know, how about a few more registers?

I'm saying this out of kindness and concern. There have been a few occasions I've had a craving for that so-good-it's-sinister blood orange number, only to see the line and bail. I know I can't be the only one, and if you've actually convinced people by the thousands to spend three dollars on frozen fruit on a stick, I would think you'd want to collect that cash as quickly as you can.

For now, I'm forced to avoid Steel City Pops during prime time, and get my pineapple-jalapeño fix in the early afternoon. But I long for the day when I stroll down Greenville Avenue on a summer night, a smooth-as-satin caramel pop in hand. I hope it happens soon because summer is fleeting.

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