Diners

I can't help but romanticize them. I'd like to walk into Edward Hopper's painting, order a coffee and ask the fella in the fedora if he could be so kind to light my cigarette.



But I don't smoke anymore.

My first job was at a diner. I was a dish bitch at a cafe' just a few miles from my home. It was like any other - dark and dingy and sort of charming. The smokers gave the place a nice hazy effect and the coffee... oh the coffee.

I was a waitress once. It was later in life and it didn't last long. I hated most of the drunks who came in to talk to me.

"So what are you going to study when you go to university? Psychology? That's great - you can practice on me tonight sweetheart."

How original you dirty old dweeb. Like I haven't heard that three nights already this week. Yeah and sorry - whatever you just ordered...well we're fresh out. Fresh out.

That's when I was young and idealistic. I think I could do much better these days. Just give me a tray, a little hat and an apron. I'd be raking in the tips.

"How's that hon? Matches for your cigarettes? Well sure I'll get some for you, but I'll tell you what - as soon as I saw you walk in I knew you'd be trouble. I used to study psychology you know."