"I want a picture in front of the big apple and tag myself as I went to the big apple [not New York], har har har!"
"... You know how many people have probably already done that?"
Beside the 401 highway, on a small hill, there is a big apple. I've always only used it as a landmark to alert myself that Toronto is just an hour away, but this time we decided to actually take the highway exit and check it out. All it took to convince the driver was offering to buy him an apple pie.
The Big Apple is located in the community of Colborne. There is absolutely nothing in this area other than trees and excess land, perhaps the occasional farm house and some tumble of hay. We drove into The Big Apple and I pictured a small wooden stand with a few apple pies. Inside the cabin, I pictured a dusty out-of-date diner consisting a few truckers nonchalantly drinking their coffee served by a 50 year old female who was the prom queen back in her golden years but now she smokes all day and hates life.
But it was quite the opposite. As soon as we pulled into The Big Apple, we saw mini putt and ping pong tables with a small petting zoo of chickens and lamas. Inside the restaurant, there was a whole kitchen dedicated to making apple pies. The front parking lot was full. Families and kids were everywhere. Tourists were buying all sorts of apple related products, from apple fritters to apple candies to apple dumplings, like they have never encountered an apple in their entire life. The place was so filled with people that I felt peoplephobic, the same feeling I get when going to Costco on weekends. "Where did all these people come from?!" I asked myself, as this 1.5 feet tall kid ran right into my stomach, "That's it. I'm out of here".
So we bought our apple pies and left, with the pleasant feeling of when you think of something to be ghetto but turns out to be far from it.