There were some really fantastic Throw me suggestions this week and @Eglentyne’s “Rummaging through someone else’s drawers” was a sure winner, but I got all weird and nostalgic-y at the end and switched to @jasonbot2000’s Throw me debut, “I’m new to this, so be gentle but, ‘raygun’?” And really, I don’t have much raygun history but for this bit, and since Jason introduced me to this crazy little establishment, I’m happy to do him the honors. Behold: Rayguns
Four years I worked in a trendy-muck 50’sesque diner slinging coffee next to framed toy rayguns and Galaxy syrup bottles getting my jiggly butt grabbed by the gay guy with a crew cut behind the cash register. “Kitty,” he’d say with his great school-boy grin, “The first day I worked here, I thought you were intimidating in that suit with the pin stripes.”
That was the point, I didn’t say, and went on dishing out squash curry soup and house salads and bitching about the new general manager and how she rose like hot bread dough from the back room of the bakery, inflating indefinitely–sour, sour dough.
I didn’t like her sweet disposition and how it bubbled out of her when she said to the high school girl at the ice cream counter, “You’re going to hell.” Or how the graying, curly poof on her forehead bounced almost on its own as she nodded and smiled her way through a story of the rapture ending in, “And all that will be left here are my shoes.”
Why couldn’t she take the shoes with her? It would be left up to us to donate them to the empty church down the street that would surely be teeming with left-behind shoes.
But there were some good eggs in that diner and I’m not talking scrambled or fried. By the time I finally walked, I’d been going to school full time and working a 20 hour dream shift ending on Friday nights with a glass of wine and a bucket of wrapped silverware gossiping about bad luck love and what they did to the salads to make them taste so bad–stewed tomatoes, eesh.
It was a great gang on Friday nights, like brothers and sisters from the front of the house to the back talking in restaurant code and getting eachother’s back or a forgotten beer and extra plate of fish. I still miss those kids ten years later. I wonder where they’ve gone and if they still have all that hair.