The afternoon had been stressful. Details unimportant. I said to Kelly ... I'd like some ice cream. She said ... well, we could go to Dennys. And so, the die was cast.

Dennys, on a Sunday evening (post the dinner hour) takes on an "other worldly" persona. We should have remembered that - but didn't. We walked in about quarter of nine. We dutifully stood on the little rug and waited. And waited. Over by the kitchen wall, groups of employees huddled. Watching us. We watched back. We became aware that there were two people standing at the register. One with credit card in hand. And nobody was behind the register. They waited as well. We waited together ... watching.

As we watched them, watching us .... I scanned the sign on the podium once again ... "it will be our pleasure to seat you". Right. We're supposed to wait. The watching had come to a complete stand-off, when a plodding character came out of the kitchen, and communicated to a employee. I could only hear the employee respond with ... "... clear back there??" And she approached us. I felt I was in one of those "dead zone" commercials. The young lady had clearly recently suffered a chilling experience of some sort (perhaps a fatal car crash). She approached and extended a bony finger toward us, as she said .... and I quote, "two?" I gulped and agreed.

We followed her to one filthy booth after another, while she kept taking us deeper into the dark sections of the place. After some time with no success, I indicated that we might care to try our luck back up in the "lighted areas" of the restaurant. We did so ... and were seated (soon to regret it).

Reading my mind, the waitress said, "we don't have bannanas". The fact that I'd been thinking of a banana split, made her statement more chilling than it might have been. And, with that ... I started to shut down. While Kelly told the creature that we were just going to have dessert, I scanned the room. There was another waiteress. Big black industrial strength black plastic frame glasses that all the young women wear (rebelling against youth and feminine appeal)... and some of the most bizzare hair I've seen for awhile. Parted in haphazard patches, it was fried orange, with two inches of dark brown roots. The patches exploded atop the goggles much like some muppet character. I really needed to decide what I wanted to order.

And so ... I ordered a banana split (hold the banana that they didn't have anyway), and coffee. The plodding gentleman we'd seen upon entering, turned out to be the night manager (just a guess). I swore "Hotel California" was playing in the kitchen. He bore a striking resemblence to Albert Einstein ... gone to seed. And he stood nearby to us ... ceaslessly munching something, without ever having a need to refresh whatever it was. The bananless split arrived, in a bowl, with a teaspoon stuck in it. I dived in. When our waiteress refilled our coffee cups, I was pleased to see that she had creamers in the other hand. Usually you get one or the other ... seldom both. But, as she tossed them on the table, one went bouncing past me. I hadn't realized we were playing catch. And, it went to the floor. No problem though, she just reached down between my feet and picked it up ... and put it back on the table for us.

While we were commenting about the resourcefulness of the young lady, we found ourselves under chemical attack from the booth behind us. I was stunned into immobility, and lapsed into a semiconscious state with my head in my shirt. I've been known to move to another table in a restaraunt, but Kelly always hates it. And, so I remained - with a glazed look on my face no doubt. Eventually, I could see my bowl again. I had stolen a brief glance at my attacker's booth, and had noted that the lady opposite there, seemed to fit in quite well with the others I'd noted. I knew the man with her would not be much different.

By now, Kelly and I were looking to make our exit ... but had no check. Kelly started laughing. In my numb state, I'd not noticed that the woman behind us, had been speaking into her cell phone ... "Peaches ... mommy loves you. Hello Peaches ... Peaches?? ... etc."

I looked across, to note a very large man of 50-60 years, holding a paper tablet about three inches from his eye. In the other hand was a colored pencil that he was studiously working with. He was quite intent upon his task. As I watched, it became clear that he was coloring. I tossed a couple of bucks on the table, gathered my coat and hat, and we went to the register ... where we waited. From the register, I could see that the artist had an open briefcase, full of colored pencils. Our waitress was nowhere to be seen, and we had no ticket. Einstein's father appeared, and said we could check out any time we wished, but we could never leave. OK, I just made that part up.

Over the next several minutes there, we had a line up of all the waitresses in the place. We identified the one who had served us so well, and she wailed that we didn't have a ticket because she had'nt made one up yet!! We threw money at them, and left in a shower of dollar bills. As the tires of the minivan chirped on the asphalt, the zombies were pushing their stiff arms against the front door ... trying to all jam thru the door together.

If you ever feel tempted to go out for ice cream late Sunday evening, don't go to Denny's. It's a DEAD ZONE!!!

Gary

Gary,

Thanks for the laugh. You may have missed your calling in life, hurry up with the horror novel.

Life has been pretty uneventful here, but that's a good thing. My car insurance didn't go up, I haven't found any new dents on Jr's car in two weeks and I still have a job.

I wanted to make an FT shoot in the next county last week but had a bout of insomnia the prior night so I shut off the alarm at 4:30 in the morning and slept in. Small bore of course.

Lon

Ah... Denny's, the ultimate late-night refuge...for hungry drunks after closing time, zombie waitresses, and about six people a year that forgot that nobody shows up after hours at a Dennys unless they want to deal with zombie waitresses and drunks. Betcha won't make that mistake again! It doesn't matter which city you're in, once the morning pancake crowd clears and the lunch-rush is over the place always feels like it's been taken over by aliens trying out their human suits for the very first time. Check please?!? Let me consult my Martian/English phrase book for a moment in the back room....

No Denny's around here, in fact, no fast food or chain restaurants at all. In summer there's several good restaurants with food from Baja Mexican to authentic Thai (made by an authentic Thai grandma). Wintertime, it's a different story. We have two (count 'em) places to eat out from about October through the end of February. One does breakfast and lunch, the other does lunch and dinner. Both are attached to bars, which of course never close for the winter. : ) When you go out to eat here in the winter it's like a combination of deja-vu and the movie Groundhog Day...didn't I just see that waitress in the hardware store? And the grocery store? And the bank? And the post office? Yes, you did. She works three jobs and you see EVERYONE in town at the post office, since they don't deliver mail to your home here. Didn't I have the halibut sandwich last time? Yes, you did...there's only six items on the menu, not counting fries. We eat at home a lot. : )

When the heli-skiing crowd shows up in the spring it gets a bit better, and the summers are fine, but....C'MON SPRING!

My last late-night experience at a Denny's was not a good one. I found that at the one around here, on the northern edge of the Baltimore City, they've actually started positioning police INSIDE the restaurant for when (not just in case) trouble breaks out. I believe this was during th week on a Thursday night. Sad really . . . the inmates are running the asylum, and they wonder why the cities' tax bases are shrinking.



-- Jim



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/24/2009 04:36PM by Jim.

Sounds like a fun experience... Next time, just don't forget the zombie repellent!

Oh, almost forgot: Next time, go to IHOP...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/25/2009 04:52AM by Roose Hurro.

Ive had that expereince at the local IHOP.......

guess where we do not eat any more......

It would be handy if the employees at the chain restaurants had a big G.A.S. gauge pinned to the front of their uniforms. You know, the one that lets you know if they Give A S...uhm...spit? If you walked in and everyone you saw had their G.A.S. gauge pegged at zero, you could just walk out and try somewhere else.