kay's kastles is a dying breed: the old-fashioned, earnest icecreamparlor. there are no branded t-shirts or knowing winks. there are no gimmicky flavors of the month or walls of local art. this place is far removed from modern icecreamjoints of chattanooga's revitalized downtown. it is nestled in the more rural reaches of soddy daisy, amongst the good people, and it still retains the characteristics that defined it in the mid-eighties. let's be clear: the staff hates you. they really, really do. they are, without question, some of the surliest people you will ever meet in food service. they hope you die; barring that, they'll grudgingly take your money and give you icecreamif they must. (how one can maintain a frowny face in a place like this i'll never know.) the experience really takes me back. they've got kitschy icecreamdecor (icecreamposters, icecreamsigns, icecreamceramics), old arcade machines, and