Superdawg, on Milwaukee and Devon on the North Side of Chicago, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in August. (You can try, but you can't beat it.)
I had a Superdawg (of course) and a root beer, my son had a Whoopercheesie and a chocolate malt, while my wife opted for the Superchic and a diet Coke. ( I mispronounced this last item as a "Super-sheek." "Super-chick? We're not that fancy," I was told by the guy taking my order at the window.)
As I said, it was a beautiful day and we ate together under an umbrella at one of the tables outside. When we were finished, we all agreed: It was a good day.
And that's really the best thing you can ever say, isn't it?