Somewhere in Toledo

It was one of those restaurants.


The whole place is covered in wood paneling. It has all that vintage, 1975, city-diner charm. Tables are sticky. The menus have notes tucked inside, hand-written: 

"Mike's special burger $5" 

"Smothered sirloin $8"

"Meatloaf $6"

There's always a meatloaf. 


A smothered anything doesn't always sound good, but it does here. Mushrooms, onions. How bad can it be? At least there's mushrooms and onions. 


Staff. Well, you don't focus on them too much, because if you do, you'll leave. A man drying the dishes comes out from the kitchen wearing a filthy apron and wiping his hands on his pants. He's got no teeth and pale skin that hasn't seen the sun since that summer in the recreation yard. A waitress looks a little too gaunt. Ultra thin. Tattoos galore. Nose rings, gauges--all the subliminal indicators of "fml." She's completely disinterested in getting your drinks, but she does, then disappears for 20 minutes. A pint of beer is $3, so I get it. It's cold. It's fresh. It's good. 


What shall I order? It's all comfort food--burgers and fries, open-faced sandwiches, beer-battered fish and chips, mac and cheese, grilled steaks, grilled chops. And what's comforting is that you just don't care anymore; you just slammed a pint on an empty stomach. Conventional health-wisdom be damned. "Give me something smothered in onions. Make the fries poutine!"


You wait. You drink. You talk. You drink some more. You're a little irked. But the place is packed. I'm sure she's busy. 

But then you're peeved again. It's taking forever. You know what? Let's just relax. Let's try...patience. And it makes all the difference. 


The food arrives and you eat. The food ain't bad. In fact, not bad at all. In fact, it's the best meal you've eaten all week--crispy, charred sirloin--dark outside, pink inside--drowned in caramelized onions. Buttery mushrooms. Hot fries, rich brown gravy, and cheese. This is the real ish. Greasy, 2000 calorie ish. The food is worth the wait. And it goes down well. And you feel good. You leave happy. 


You've successfully turned an ordinary meal, in an ordinary place, from a potential disaster into an occasion to celebrate. The difference, is attitude. 

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