The diner

After achieving some success in measuring my luggage to make certain it wasn’t over the width, height, and length of the carry-on suitcase, I deserved a break.

So after I purchased the yard stick – the kind that I used to get whipped with when I was a kid – and a lock for my checked-in suitcase from Ace Hardware, I went to Daddy’s Diner in Marina.

It should be named Momma’s because it’s just like what Momma used to cook when we were young. All American type food from years gone by, very nostalgic for me.

I sat at a table by myself and marveled at how busy the restaurant was, but how well people were served by only two waiters.  A man sat at the table next to me across a small aisle and began speaking to a man at a table in front of me. It sounded as though they had worked, or do work, for the same person.  I wasn’t really interested because I was busy waiting  for a box to take Mom’s home-cooking  home to enjoy later.

“Pardon my language ma’am,” the guy next to me said.

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t hear anything.”

The waitress brought the box to me and after it was all boxed, I couldn’t help it:

“What did you say? Now I’m curious about what I shouldn’t hear?”

“Oh, well,” he said and cleared his throat.”It was about a man acting like a woman.”

“You’re right, I am offended.”  I laughed.

The other man said, “He didn’t mean any harm to women by what he said, he just meant that the man we’re talking about was…..”

I interrupted him and helped him out a bit: “Oh, a sissy?”

“Yes, “ they both laughed.

Pity the poor boss. I’m just glad they didn’t mention his name. You never know who might be listening.

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