After the beach, we called the hospital to check in. There was still plenty of time left to kill. The thought of sitting in a crowded waiting room with The View blasting at maximum volume wasn’t too appealing, so we went to a diner.
I should’ve taken more pictures there. I’ve been to this diner before, and it hasn’t changed since 1993. Everything is mirrored, or neon, or pastel, or somehow all three at once, and none of it is in that intentional “hey we’re retro” style.
Three quick notes about that diner:
#1: I absolutely love diner placemats. Always have, always will. The best of them show the various cocktails by way of crude illustrations. Someday, I swear, I *will* be the guy who orders a Manhattan at a goddamned diner at 1:30 PM.
These placements weren’t as fun (a little too “current”), but I still made sincere plans to take mine home. Sadly, those plans were scratched when our waiter brought out a complimentary bowl of coleslaw, and somehow managed to splash that gross shit all over my placemat.
Next time, I guess.
#2: On the way out, I spotted one of those “Choking Victim” posters. The original kind, or at least the kind that hung in restaurants when I was a kid. These have been replaced almost everywhere with newer, lamer versions.
I get such a thrill when I spot the old versions, and pray that I’ll find the courage to steal one before it’s too late. (Don’t give me grief. How much help can a Heimlich maneuver guide be when it’s stationed outside of the diner, in the entranceway? What, are you supposed to run downstairs whenever Grandma starts choking?)
#3: I want tattoos of the “Chicle Tabs” mascots. Yeah, all three of them. One on each pec, and another on my forehead.
It just occurred to me that this is a really bizarre article. And I’m not sure I mean that in a good way. Ah well. Too late to turn back now. I already drew a logo and everything.