Fleeting Diner Love

For dinner, we went to a proper diner. As we walked in, a waitress behind the counter said, "You can sit anywhere you like... Well, not on the counter and not in the kitchen, but pretty much anywhere else."

I liked her immediately.

Dad was heading for a booth directly next to the only other people eating in the diner. Why would you do that? I wondered. I gestured to the next booth over which was next to the dessert case. I sat down and the refrigerator's compressor kicked on. Ah well.

Dad slid into the other side of the booth, an uncharacteristic move, and Mom joined him on that side.

The waitress from before came over with menus. She was tall and had dark red hair pulled back in a pony tail, a deep red that wasn't quite natural but looked cool. She passed out three menus and then put a fourth on the table saying, "This is the breakfast menu. We serve breakfast all day like any good diner should." She smiled and continued, "As you know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day... even if you eat it at seven o'clock."

Mom said, "That's usually when I like to eat this stuff."

"Me too!" The waitress agreed. "It's too much for the morning." She took our drink orders and then left us to read the menus.

Our table had one of those individual jukeboxes on it. "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge caught my eye but there was already good music playing lowly in the diner.

The booths were small and the aisle between them and the counter was fairly narrow. When the waitress came back, she just leaned against a bar stool across from us to take our order, completely at ease.

Once we were eating, during breaks in my table's conversation, I picked up fragments of our waitress talking to others as though turning the dial to tune in to different radio stations.

Someone at the table a booth away from us had a food issue which involved weighing everything with a scale she'd brought. The waitress described a friend who, similarly, weighed everything she ate but had no impulse control and ate constantly. She tried to remember the name of the disorder. One of the customers suggested, "Bulimia?" but that wasn't it.

I was glad for our booth of buffer as I tuned out their conversation and watched the waitress bring two lighter empty dishes to accommodate the woman who was going to weigh her food.

***The diner's phone rang and our waitress answered in the same friendly tone she'd greeted us. Sounded like sorting out work shifts at the diner.

***"It took me about 8 years to realize what they said wasn't about me," she said. There was a man seated at the counter across from her. It was an answer to a question, but I hadn't heard him ask it or even seen him come in.

Our waitress continued, "Few people are really bad. Mostly it's someone's having a bad day. Once in a while, it's OK, that was really mean."

Love the Zen attitude.

***"Did you see that?" she asked the man at the counter excitedly. I glanced over sorry that I'd missed whatever it was. "I've never done that and it'll never happen again. Figures." Apparently he'd missed it too. "The spoon flipped right up and landed in the milk!"

Little bit in love.

Great voice, presence, age appropriate, attractive.

But a solid 45 minutes away at least and no indication of any possible interest. Ah well.

There's definitely something to be said for friendliness though. I realize it's not how I come off generally. I have moments but they don't endure long due to introversion, shyness, and anxiety. Much better than I used to be at least.


3 years ago on TTaT: Life of Art SitRep #11