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I am at a downtown diner. The short-order cook’s name is Oscar. I know this because I am with someone who is related to him somehow.
The diner has an outdoor section on the sidewalk, with tables and chairs against the wall, and it works like old drive-ins, only without the car – you sit down at a table, press an intercom button and order yr food.
The person I’m with orders a burger, and it’s only when he asks if I want a side order with it that I realize the burger is for me, not him. I’ve already eaten, so I’m not really hungry, but I decide I should be okay as long as I decline the side order.
We end up going inside the diner to eat, and we talk about how it’s hard to find diners like this anymore where you can get curb service like that and you know the name of the cook. As we talk, I seem to remember my dad bringing me to this diner when I was a kid. I’m glad the guy brought me here – I’d forgotten about it, and it’s a great place for my lunch break in the future.
And then I woke up.
Wake me for meals,
This is dF
The diner has an outdoor section on the sidewalk, with tables and chairs against the wall, and it works like old drive-ins, only without the car – you sit down at a table, press an intercom button and order yr food.
The person I’m with orders a burger, and it’s only when he asks if I want a side order with it that I realize the burger is for me, not him. I’ve already eaten, so I’m not really hungry, but I decide I should be okay as long as I decline the side order.
We end up going inside the diner to eat, and we talk about how it’s hard to find diners like this anymore where you can get curb service like that and you know the name of the cook. As we talk, I seem to remember my dad bringing me to this diner when I was a kid. I’m glad the guy brought me here – I’d forgotten about it, and it’s a great place for my lunch break in the future.
And then I woke up.
Wake me for meals,
This is dF
