UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
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Tuesday, January 27, 2004
I used to love diners, really adore them, to the point of a cute high school obsession during which I made a zine about them. But then they passed a law about smoking in restaurants in New York, and I realized that what I really loved was smoking. So now I only go to the diner once a week or so, and I only stay as long as it takes to funnel my food down my gullet and run out for a smoke. In college I went to the diner every day for breakfast, which I realize now was kinda stupid or lazy, but Ohio allowed smoking in hospital beds and gas stations, so I just ate my eggs and smoked and drank coffee until acid gushed from my esophagus like a flesh-eating Old Faithful.
A couple of months ago I was at a diner with lo and I ordered some french toast, for dinner. It arrived tasting funny and I found some onion chunks on the plate. I called the bored waitress over, pointed out the onions, apologized for being picky, and she said she'd get me a new order. Then I hear her at the kitchen window, shouting "gimme another order of french toast -- hold the onions!" Hee. Last night we ate at Cozy Soup & Burger, which had been hideously remodeled from its classic greasy I-don't-give-a-fuck decor into something that looked like a spaceship lounge imagined by Erté, or something. Here is my big beef with CS&B: the bathroom was tiny, like a closet with a toilet shoved in the end. It was too small for a very fat man to use, which considering their 9oz burgers seemed a little disingenuous. Nor was there room to fill a normal-sized man with rocks. But what I hated the most is that there was a dryer instead of hand towels, and the doorknob was so fucking recalcitrant that I had to wrestle with it for a good two hours in order to escape the shitcloset. Which means that restaurant employees (unless they have a sink in the kitchen, which we'll assume they don't because otherwise my post is semi-invalidated) have to manhandle the bathroom doorknob with extra special vigor before returning to mold my burgers into tasty 9oz bacterial death-patties. THAT'S what I don't like. But I did like the crazy lady at the counter, who I overheard in snippets badgering another customer with her awesome tale of insanity: "Yeah. I tol' the police. I called 'em. Cuz the people, they kidnap my dog. Two days my dog missing, then I get her back, woooo-EEE, what a wonderful day! I file a missing persons? It was those kids, I know it. Bad kids in the neighborhood took my dog, I know 'em. But my dog? She got a microchip in her, cuz she a purebred. All purebreds got microchips in 'em, cuz they valuable. So they tracked her! I got my dog back! Woooo-EEEEE! Yeah!" The other customer looked like he wanted to die, kept on looking at his book like he couldn't hear her, but that was clearly impossible. He had to nod sideways and smile that way you do at insane people so as not to upset them. He got up and paid his bill without making any sudden movements, and the lady started telling her story to the mirror behind the counter. Wooo-EEE! 0 comments |
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