Tea for Who?

As much as I love living the American Dream, sometimes it can be like the Twilight Zone. Today we drove to a little village called Long Grove, not far from Chicago. It was very picturesque, and only enhanced by yesterday's snowfall. Actually, that's not totally true. Clinging on to Ross for dear life as we walked towards one of the shops, I slipped on the ice, pulling us both down.
Anyhow, we recovered quickly enough to have lunch in one of the local eateries.
It was like stepping back in time, but not in a good way. It looked like the decor hadn't been touched since the 1970s, but as with most things here in the mid West, it was very pleasant.
Things started to get a bit odd when we noticed some of the ladies waiting for tables examining the wall display. It was lined with wide-brimmed straw hats, festooned with fabric flowers and ribbons.
It wasn't just that they were looking at them, it was that they put them on...and kept them on.
It was then we noticed another lady wheeling a harp into the room.
The ladies sat down, still wearing the hats. More people came to join them. Some little girls had their own straw hats. Even teenagers who looked perfectly normal, picked up hats and sat down to take photos of each other.
In the end we could stand it no longer and we asked the waitress what was going on.
"Afternoon tea," she smiled knowingly, as if she was solving the Da Vinci Code.
Being British, you might have thought the idea of tea would appeal to me, even if I had barely finished lunch. But seeing these Stepford Wives and their children was just plain wierd. And as far as I know, even in England, no one has taken afternoon tea in a hat since 1935.