by Andrew Persons

Created on: March 03, 2007   Last Updated: September 16, 2010

My Night at the Diner
The steam arose from the black, watery liquid as the waitress poured me another cup of instant Java. She must have been in her late twenties, I thought to myself. She had the markings of many late nights around her eyes and her pale skin on her face seemed to droop like a bulldogs. She was much too young to be working the midnight shift at the local eatery.

After she finished filling my cup, she painfully turned and headed off for another table.

"Excuse me miss," I said daringly, and I shyly asked her if she had a menu.

"No!" she said brashly. "I bn standin on ma feet all day!" She spoke as if she had a southern drawl but with a hint of laziness. "Yer gonna hafta git it yerself."

Surprised by her command, I walked to the front of the diner where the menus were strewn about recklessly on the dirty compressed-wood counter.
However, now that I had the menu I realized that the night could only get sweeter.

So many choices, I thought to myself. I could have breakfast? Mmm just the thought of fluffy golden pancakes smothered in creamy yellow butter and drenched in maple syrup made my mouth water and the palms of my hands sweat. Or I could have a dinner entre? A big thick bacon double cheeseburger with crisp green lettuce, ripe red tomatoes and side of fresh cut french-fries would do the trick.

"Uredy ta arder?" Her voice was even more annoying than before.

"Just a sec please," I replied patiently. She rudely and abruptly let out a big sigh, popped out her left hip, and positioned her right hand on the other. "Well we ain't open all nite!" she said with a voice that reminded me of a metal fork being scraped down a china-glass plate.

She waited there beside me for a few moments, both of us completely silent until she broke it with, "I'll git you somore coffee."

Finally! I thought in my head. Now that she was away I could make the most important decision of the evening what to eat!

I sat there infatuated with the menu for several minuets, trying to come up with a solution to my complex decision. As I pondered all the possibilities of what I should order, a different lady came to my table and asked me if I had been helped. When I looked up, I surprisingly saw a woman that must had been in her mid-fifties but she had a fresh look about her. Her skin was wrinkly and rough, but her eyes seemed alive and joyful. Ah! What a pleasant surprise, I thought.

"Um yeah," I said, "the lady standing over there." I pointed at the waitress that had a pot of coffee

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