This is copied directly from my LBD (little black diary). I jotted it down a couple of weeks ago, in a moment of beatific inspiration. Or sugar-induced dizziness.
Sitting in a green and turquoise diner, 'Centrefold' is playing overhead (na na nananana, nana na na nanana na na!), eating pie with a filling to match my hair. Either this is my very happy 1980s dream, or I'm in a movie and about to be murdered by a guy with a bad mullet.
Words can't express how much I love diners. I'm going to miss pancakes/waffles/French toast soooo much.
Three days later, in a different diner...
Eating my breakfast in my now favourite diner, Malibu on W 23rd st. I LOVE it. I came in here with a late night pancake craving and it was super quiet and the staff treated me very well. Now I'm here for Sunday breakfast (at 1.45pm) and it is totally different but just as nice. The pleasant buzz of chatter is mashed up with the sound coming from the basketball game on the TV above the counter. I am eating my waffle and making idle notes but am secretly absorbed by the conversation to my left between the manager and a couple of hefty bald guys, one with a baseball cap. They all speak with strong Noo Yoik accents, and every sentence is structured along the lines of - 'And so I says to him I tells him, you can't just leave ya truck there y'blockin the whole street that's watchya doin' is what I told him. And he says buddy, he says, I am tellin' you buddy I got a load to haul by 2 o'clock'...
Made for most interesting listening, mostly cos it made me feel a bit like I was in an episode of some sitcom. Happy Days is no.1 suspect.
My order generally goes something like this:
Chocolate chip pancakes with fruit salad and bacon on the side.
Hello Diabetes!
(kidding...nobody worry)
peace and maple syrupxxxxxxxxxx
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