Sinning…err, Sitting In A Christian Diner

Today, January 21, was the first weekend morning in a while where Sarah and I had the opportunity to sleep in.  Unfortunately, with the mental alarm clocks and habitual waking up, our sleeping in brought us to 7:45.  This was followed by not moving and watching television until 9ish, keeping an eye on the news and weather updates before deciding that we did not want to make breakfast.  Since we hadn’t been to the Brookside Diner or By The Brook Diner–see, it’s been a while–we decided to head there.  Being in Fairmount, it was probably our closest diner. 

Upon our arrival, to our dismay, the diner was closed, and a little piece of paper shouted it out in black marker.  We turned around, and we decided to go to the Rainbow Diner–another place we did not know the name of.  When we arrived at the Good News Cafe, as the sign read with a happy little rainbow drawing next to the wording. 

Trying new places is what Sarah and I like to normally do.  It’s a quest to find the perfect nook for breakfast, dessert, place to simply enjoy a glass of wine, etc.  They are fun quests to keep the everyday task or venture interesting. 

The windows were blackened with long curtains concealing the inside.  It looked miserable from the outside.  For a place called Good News Cafe, it looked bleak and unwelcoming from the outside, save the exception of the drawing of the rainbow.  Anything could happen beyond the glass doors, and there was no clue as to what we may find.  Would this place be a sit-down cafe?  Would this place be set up like a Dunkin Donuts or any coffee shop with a counter and a couple of tables here and there?  Was the sign a faux store front for a drug cartel, or the portal entering into another world and guarded by a minotaur we’d have to fight to the death?  Would it be run by hippies or creepers?  Would we find the though-to-be dead  Bob Ross?  I was crossimg my fingers for the latter. As timid as we were, we entered the cafe.

There was a chalkboard in the foyer, explaining the specials of the morning.  It was obvious to us it was the sit-down restaurant.  I pointed this out to buy me some time, procrastinating on entering.

The customers, each one of them, could have fit the bill to be our grandparents.  Those working greeted us awkwardly, as if they lived in the box-shaped restaurant, hoping for consumers to enter for human interaction.  However, we were immediately seated with menus at our grasp, promoting the Good News Cafe and a quote from the book of Corinthians.

Wait.  Good News? Ohhhh… We got it. Looking around, we saw the religious themed decorations, as few as there were.  The menu had Samson and Delilah breakfast sandwiches and Blessed Entrees, or something of that sort. It doesn’t matter, because it was blessed. As we ordered Sarah’s fritatta and my Breakfast Stacker, we tried to enjoy the coffee.  I’ve never tasted the Nescafe, or the stir-your-own coffee brands, but  I can imagine the taste and consistency of the mugs we had with our coffees reflected the potential. I know Jesus could feed an army with a fish and a loaf of bread, but you can’t make an army coffee with a stir-in teaspoon of fake coffee.

The fritatta and stacker came, and to our surprise were huge.  Sarah opted for half, which was about the size of my stacker.  My breakfast stacker was piled upon my plate as follows:  biscuits, home fries, sausage, gravy, and cheese.  There was no way in…well..that I was going to finish it, and my reaction was a wide-eyed utterance:  “Ho-leeeeee…” I wish I had a camera to take a picture of this pile of calories, but just take my word on it.  The food was actually tasty.  Sarah’s fritatta was nowhere near bland, and my heart attack stacker was really good.  God willing, I’d finish it without complications. 

I finished it.

As the meal came to an end, my gluttony getting the best of me and my shoulder devil clapping wildly, Sarah and I wallowed in a booth of a Christian diner, wading in a pool of guilt which leaked from our not going to mass on a regular basis.  I heard the guy behind me speaking to the waitress, ordering an om-e-lette and flapjacks.  That’s how he said them.  Also, he requested the waitress suggest the most calorie-filled meal.  Of course, she suggests the stacker.  The guy sounded very exciting.  Moments later, another guy asked about and ordered the stacker.  I wasn’t alone in this after all.  If we all died, I’d have friends sitting on the same bus as me.

A guy in the back of the room sneezed.  He was wearing a San Francisco 49ers hat.  First, shame on him for not removing his hat before eating.  Secondly, shame on him for not sneezing into the bend of his arm.  I pointed this out to Sarah, and I shared the fact that I would not tell him, God bless you.  After all, I’m a Giants fan.

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