I know I said that this Denny’s epic would only be a week long. But with the response I have been getting from this I’ve decided that instead of it being a week long that it will end “not today.” There are a few good stories to tell still, like today’s. So, get to your favorite booth, order up a French Slam and coffee, light up a hand-rolled smoke, and let’s stay at Denny’s long after it was time to leave.
***
It was a Wednesday after a production in the Winter 2003 semester. Naturally it was time to go to Denny’s.
RJ and I went inside and waited for a table. There was a group of three or four good-looking women waiting in front of us.
“Hey, you guys write for the newspaper, don’t you?”
Being single guys at the time our natural response was something along the lines of a smooth, yet slowly delivered “Why yes…we are.”
“Why don’t you guys ever write anything about us?”
“Yeah, we go to State!”
It would appear that the women that were talking to us were not just women. Oh no. They were Amazons who played volleyball at SC4. That might not sound like much, but you have to realize that SC4 Girls Volleyball is a state qualifying team and quite possibly winners of multiple championships.
Obviously since we were the two guys in charge of the newspaper we would have entire spreads of the ESG dedicated to them, right?
Nope.
Trust me, it wasn’t like we didn’t want to. I say this for myself but I also believe I can say this on behalf of RJ when I say we weren’t that into sports. The first semester of that year we never covered sports for various reasons. Mr. Lusk even said in an issue critique “Is it the goal this year not to cover sports?” Turmoil ensued in the latter part of the Fall 2002 semester and even when we were doing pretty good getting issues out in Winter 2003 we still weren’t doing anything. We had good Sports Editor but he didn’t write much beyond national sports coverage at the time.
Even if we didn’t write about sports we never had any problems except for Lusk’s critiques.
That is, until that night.
RJ and I were speechless. We grasped for words. I’m a former wrestler and RJ breaks heavy drumsticks whenever he gets behind his set. Yet we were left quivering before these women who could easily rip off our heads and serve them to open a match.
Naturally we did the only thing possible. Instead of being men and saying “We’re sorry and we’ll cover your games in the future” we made up a 110% pure B.S. excuse involving us saying we saw someone we knew at one of the tables and booked it to a section no athlete would ever go; that being the smoking section. Granted, no athlete who cares to stay in shape should go to Denny’s. But if this blog and regular attendance at Denny’s is proof of anything it is that unbelievable things happen there a lot.
We didn’t do any stories on them that semester. That’s because they play in the Fall. I rectified this during my tenure primarily because I love life and do not care to shuffle off this mortal coil yet.
(As we speak, Freudian analysts are picking apart that last paragraph for the “castration anxiety” I am obviously hiding.)
I want to use the excuse that “we were young and just learning the newspaper” and in reality that is only partially true. The other excuse is that there is no excuse. Really, we should have been covering the volleyball team.
I wish that was the only time I ran into women that have seething anger towards RJ and I. I would be very extremely wrong.
***
Stay tuned for Monday as the epic continues.
Showing posts with label denny's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label denny's. Show all posts
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Chapter 15: Grilling in the name of
For today's (sorta) late entry I hand the reigns over to ex-Freudian Slip, ex-Acrobat drummer RJ Mey for his (unintentionally) 666-word strong contribution to this epic of Mini-Burgers proportions. RJ has plenty more Denny's experiences than I do and thus is arguably more qualified to do this than I.
***
Denny's was a smoke filled caffeinated womb to my creative spirit. It was my spiritual home for most of the duration of my time in Port Huron. I had spent a great deal of time at the Raven, but ultimately my true home was Denny's.
The Raven had a lot of things that the Denny's didn't; it was clean, with nice food, a smoke free atmosphere with a good staff of friendly, attractive people. Denny's was dirty, it was hard to see across the room, and the wait staff probably hated your guts.
None of these horrible things deterred us; we still had to go. We were drawn to bottomless coffee and greasy food like zombies to a summer camp. We just had to keep ourselves up all night while clogging our arteries.
The relationship with the wait staff was always tenuous; things had been getting especially bad recently. One of the regulars and a member of my crew had been spotted taking waiter's tips when they weren't looking in order to pay for his food. The service got only worse from there, we would have to wait over an hour to get a refill on our coffee.
I tried to improve conditions by ordering more food, tipping better and just being a little nicer. Nothing helped, I was a part of "that" crowd and I felt marked for life. My embarrassment turned into anger; I was tired of spending money there and feeling ripped off. A storm was a brewing.
I remember that night well. I remember stepping out of my shiny black sports car dressed like James Bond. I sauntered into the diner and requested a table for 4. A few of my friends quickly joined me, I ordered my usual coffee (martinis were clearly not on the menu), and waited patiently.
The coffee took about 6 years to arrive and the waiter threw it at me from across the room. I kept my composure and sipped it carefully, my cool exterior unfazed. I felt a small pang of hunger and decided it was time for some food.
There was no waitstaff in sight, they had clearly gone out back to shoot some heroin and water board babies. My frustration matched only my hunger as I waited there in that plastic booth, hoping to the opportunity to fill my empty stomach.
A waiter walked by, he clearly avoided eye contact and I think he might have made an obscene gesture. I felt that spirit of Che Guevera rise up within me, it was time for revolution! I knew tonight was a night to be remembered.
Rage Against the Machine began to play in the background. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone and began to dial. I ordered a few short commands and waited silently trying to conceal my bemused smirk. (Rage Against the Machine kept playing their live set behind me).
The pompous ass of a waiter walked by once more and made no effort to bring me another coffee. I could see the contempt in his eye and I knew the Thoreau would be proud of my upcoming civil disobedience. I waited until I saw a white plastic bag being filled on the counter next to the cash register.
I made my move.
I walked up to the counter and said "I'm here to pick up a to go order". The cashier stared at me blankly. "It's for Sir Robert Mey the 2nd, esquire". The cashier looked at the bag and read it's tag. She then read me my total and I paid for it with my American Express Black Card.
I took the bag of grease and sodium back to my table and proceeded to eat it there. Just at that moment Zack De La Rocha began to chant "fuck you I won't do what you tell me!" repeatedly. The crowed cheered and I munched on some seasoned fries. Victor was mine and evil had been smote.
***
For more RJ goodness, visit http://pulsarfire.livejournal.com/.
***
Denny's was a smoke filled caffeinated womb to my creative spirit. It was my spiritual home for most of the duration of my time in Port Huron. I had spent a great deal of time at the Raven, but ultimately my true home was Denny's.
The Raven had a lot of things that the Denny's didn't; it was clean, with nice food, a smoke free atmosphere with a good staff of friendly, attractive people. Denny's was dirty, it was hard to see across the room, and the wait staff probably hated your guts.
None of these horrible things deterred us; we still had to go. We were drawn to bottomless coffee and greasy food like zombies to a summer camp. We just had to keep ourselves up all night while clogging our arteries.
The relationship with the wait staff was always tenuous; things had been getting especially bad recently. One of the regulars and a member of my crew had been spotted taking waiter's tips when they weren't looking in order to pay for his food. The service got only worse from there, we would have to wait over an hour to get a refill on our coffee.
I tried to improve conditions by ordering more food, tipping better and just being a little nicer. Nothing helped, I was a part of "that" crowd and I felt marked for life. My embarrassment turned into anger; I was tired of spending money there and feeling ripped off. A storm was a brewing.
I remember that night well. I remember stepping out of my shiny black sports car dressed like James Bond. I sauntered into the diner and requested a table for 4. A few of my friends quickly joined me, I ordered my usual coffee (martinis were clearly not on the menu), and waited patiently.
The coffee took about 6 years to arrive and the waiter threw it at me from across the room. I kept my composure and sipped it carefully, my cool exterior unfazed. I felt a small pang of hunger and decided it was time for some food.
There was no waitstaff in sight, they had clearly gone out back to shoot some heroin and water board babies. My frustration matched only my hunger as I waited there in that plastic booth, hoping to the opportunity to fill my empty stomach.
A waiter walked by, he clearly avoided eye contact and I think he might have made an obscene gesture. I felt that spirit of Che Guevera rise up within me, it was time for revolution! I knew tonight was a night to be remembered.
Rage Against the Machine began to play in the background. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone and began to dial. I ordered a few short commands and waited silently trying to conceal my bemused smirk. (Rage Against the Machine kept playing their live set behind me).
The pompous ass of a waiter walked by once more and made no effort to bring me another coffee. I could see the contempt in his eye and I knew the Thoreau would be proud of my upcoming civil disobedience. I waited until I saw a white plastic bag being filled on the counter next to the cash register.
I made my move.
I walked up to the counter and said "I'm here to pick up a to go order". The cashier stared at me blankly. "It's for Sir Robert Mey the 2nd, esquire". The cashier looked at the bag and read it's tag. She then read me my total and I paid for it with my American Express Black Card.
I took the bag of grease and sodium back to my table and proceeded to eat it there. Just at that moment Zack De La Rocha began to chant "fuck you I won't do what you tell me!" repeatedly. The crowed cheered and I munched on some seasoned fries. Victor was mine and evil had been smote.
***
For more RJ goodness, visit http://pulsarfire.livejournal.com/.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Chapter 14: Day for Night at Denny's
“Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do”
-Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row” (via Watchmen)
The most important time for going to Denny’s is the night time. I seem to remember that the ancient Greeks used to run their school days from sunrise to sunset. Even if that isn’t true I will apply that same sort of rhetoric to Denny’s attendance. The best time to come to Denny’s is the inverse. Of course, I haven’t been around to see a sunrise at Denny’s but I have certainly come close to it.
Denny’s during the daytime is a lot like a superhero’s secret identity. During the day it is prim and proper in the sense of how prim and proper Denny’s is ever going to be during the day. Normal people go there, get their meal, chat for a bit, pay the check, and leave. Its a regular restaurant during the day. But at night it become Batman. The atmosphere, despite any renovations, is dark and moody. There is something in the shadows that prowls.
For the evening denizens of Denny’s (Denny’sens?) it is not about being there quick. For me, I get there and I’m in it for the long haul. Even in recent years as the attendance has declined it is still a good idea to get there late and stay. We are vampires and the coffee might as well be blood.
Things that are unheard of during the day are not only acceptable during the night but are required and mandated as such. It is okay to be a little loud. It is okay to stay hours after your plate has been taken away and your waiter is telling you their shift is almost over and they have to cash out. It is okay to move to another table when one is getting too full.
I’ve written sketches and stories in these times. I’ve seen awkward dates, pissed-off waiters, and kids up way past any reasonable bedtime.
The Polis has a nightlife comparable to other similar-sized areas. There are plenty of open bars and restaurants. But there is an allure to Denny’s not afforded at other night spots. I may love the Raven but it can get crowded for the stupidest reasons. The amount of clubs that have the upstairs couches available on a whim is unfathomable. One time back in November I went there and the whole upper floor was closed off for some party. The downstairs was stuffed to the gills because of this. On the less sober-side, bars can get too loud and the people are given plenty of reasons to become full-blown idiots.
Denny’s has its share of such people as well. Its not like the management is telling the medical students to hurry up so the law students have a chance to sit down. And there are also plenty of loud, obnoxious idiots there as well. I remember once some kids smoking cigars there. Nothing screams “I’m a pompous ass” like smoking a cigar at Denny’s.
Denny’s has control. The good kind of control. If we want to be loud we do it on our own terms and stop when we‘re done. If we need to discuss some serious issues we can do so without having to shout over the jukebox that‘s playing Journey for the millionth time that night. If we need to make the 1,000th reference that night to Flight of the Conchords or continue to espouse positively about In Rainbows we can. Since the people there that late are going to be accustomed to that anyway there is no reason to stop us.
When I get to Denny's I am always with some people. It is usually the end of a day and I have some things to do. Over the course of a night I may have a writing project to develop. some personal issues to solve, or just stare into a cup of coffee and hope that something might arise from the steam. I will shift between all those areas as much as I will be shifting between tables to say hi to some people. Denny's can afford that. I cannot do that at a bar.
But once in a while there comes the time I have to be there when the vampires are asleep.
It was around exam time for SC4 5 years ago. For a stress-breaker the student government sought out the craziest, sweatiest, most liquored-up band they could. They called on Freudian Slip. Featuring RJ Mey, Rob Adamson, Matt Surline, and the enigmatic Mr. Andy, they were to make their public debut with this show. An EP had been recorded and assembled up to the minutes before they would take the “stage” at what was the West Commons of the College Center for an early afternoon show.
I introduced the band. I sold the CDs and watched the show. They did pretty good. But with so much rock all at once there was only one way to celebrate.
It was me, the band, and some of the fans/friends that came to Denny’s including Candice, a friend who had traveled out from Lansing to see the band. It was raining outside and was quite grey that day. But again, there was a lot of rock that we all had just absorbed so now it was time to absorb caffeine and French fries.
After being seated I looked around. I didn’t understand it. We were in Denny’s but it wasn’t the place where we go to confess our sins or succumb to new ones.
This was Denny’s, but what is with the natural light coming in?
Why can we see things outside?
What is with the old people here?
And why are the waiters attending to us so promptly?
I felt awkward being there and whether or not anyone cared to acknowledge it they did too. We may be awake during the day but day is not the time to be at Denny’s. We were scaring the straights.
We stayed for a little bit in order to bask in the glow of the after show but not as long as normal. Denny’s in the day is not our environment. In an early episode of Twin Peaks Dale Cooper points out that when someone is away from their regular environment they lose 100% control of their surroundings.
It was daytime and we should have stayed in our coffins instead of trying to survive the day. But that's what night is for; to recover from the day, survive the next, and repeat the cycle.
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do”
-Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row” (via Watchmen)
The most important time for going to Denny’s is the night time. I seem to remember that the ancient Greeks used to run their school days from sunrise to sunset. Even if that isn’t true I will apply that same sort of rhetoric to Denny’s attendance. The best time to come to Denny’s is the inverse. Of course, I haven’t been around to see a sunrise at Denny’s but I have certainly come close to it.
Denny’s during the daytime is a lot like a superhero’s secret identity. During the day it is prim and proper in the sense of how prim and proper Denny’s is ever going to be during the day. Normal people go there, get their meal, chat for a bit, pay the check, and leave. Its a regular restaurant during the day. But at night it become Batman. The atmosphere, despite any renovations, is dark and moody. There is something in the shadows that prowls.
For the evening denizens of Denny’s (Denny’sens?) it is not about being there quick. For me, I get there and I’m in it for the long haul. Even in recent years as the attendance has declined it is still a good idea to get there late and stay. We are vampires and the coffee might as well be blood.
Things that are unheard of during the day are not only acceptable during the night but are required and mandated as such. It is okay to be a little loud. It is okay to stay hours after your plate has been taken away and your waiter is telling you their shift is almost over and they have to cash out. It is okay to move to another table when one is getting too full.
I’ve written sketches and stories in these times. I’ve seen awkward dates, pissed-off waiters, and kids up way past any reasonable bedtime.
The Polis has a nightlife comparable to other similar-sized areas. There are plenty of open bars and restaurants. But there is an allure to Denny’s not afforded at other night spots. I may love the Raven but it can get crowded for the stupidest reasons. The amount of clubs that have the upstairs couches available on a whim is unfathomable. One time back in November I went there and the whole upper floor was closed off for some party. The downstairs was stuffed to the gills because of this. On the less sober-side, bars can get too loud and the people are given plenty of reasons to become full-blown idiots.
Denny’s has its share of such people as well. Its not like the management is telling the medical students to hurry up so the law students have a chance to sit down. And there are also plenty of loud, obnoxious idiots there as well. I remember once some kids smoking cigars there. Nothing screams “I’m a pompous ass” like smoking a cigar at Denny’s.
Denny’s has control. The good kind of control. If we want to be loud we do it on our own terms and stop when we‘re done. If we need to discuss some serious issues we can do so without having to shout over the jukebox that‘s playing Journey for the millionth time that night. If we need to make the 1,000th reference that night to Flight of the Conchords or continue to espouse positively about In Rainbows we can. Since the people there that late are going to be accustomed to that anyway there is no reason to stop us.
When I get to Denny's I am always with some people. It is usually the end of a day and I have some things to do. Over the course of a night I may have a writing project to develop. some personal issues to solve, or just stare into a cup of coffee and hope that something might arise from the steam. I will shift between all those areas as much as I will be shifting between tables to say hi to some people. Denny's can afford that. I cannot do that at a bar.
But once in a while there comes the time I have to be there when the vampires are asleep.
It was around exam time for SC4 5 years ago. For a stress-breaker the student government sought out the craziest, sweatiest, most liquored-up band they could. They called on Freudian Slip. Featuring RJ Mey, Rob Adamson, Matt Surline, and the enigmatic Mr. Andy, they were to make their public debut with this show. An EP had been recorded and assembled up to the minutes before they would take the “stage” at what was the West Commons of the College Center for an early afternoon show.
I introduced the band. I sold the CDs and watched the show. They did pretty good. But with so much rock all at once there was only one way to celebrate.
It was me, the band, and some of the fans/friends that came to Denny’s including Candice, a friend who had traveled out from Lansing to see the band. It was raining outside and was quite grey that day. But again, there was a lot of rock that we all had just absorbed so now it was time to absorb caffeine and French fries.
After being seated I looked around. I didn’t understand it. We were in Denny’s but it wasn’t the place where we go to confess our sins or succumb to new ones.
This was Denny’s, but what is with the natural light coming in?
Why can we see things outside?
What is with the old people here?
And why are the waiters attending to us so promptly?
I felt awkward being there and whether or not anyone cared to acknowledge it they did too. We may be awake during the day but day is not the time to be at Denny’s. We were scaring the straights.
We stayed for a little bit in order to bask in the glow of the after show but not as long as normal. Denny’s in the day is not our environment. In an early episode of Twin Peaks Dale Cooper points out that when someone is away from their regular environment they lose 100% control of their surroundings.
It was daytime and we should have stayed in our coffins instead of trying to survive the day. But that's what night is for; to recover from the day, survive the next, and repeat the cycle.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Chapter 13: "The Dagwood/Blaster Incident?"
It was early March 2003 B.R. I was at Denny’s with RJ and James. It was just the three of us. I’m sure there were some acquaintances that we knew but nobody to really pay much attention to.
It was a long day at work I’m sure because it was either that or just sheer audacity that allowed the following to happen.
I ordered my usual Oreo Blender Blaster but also a Breakfast Dagwood. For those that don’t remember, the Breakfast Dagwood was a monster of a sandwich. It was pretty much a Moons Over My Hammy with thick hoagie bread instead of toast and more meat. The meal also came with hash browns.
After the waitress took our order RJ shot me a look alternating between confusion and disbelief.
“You’re going to eat all that?”
“Yeah, why shouldn’t I?”
“Bob, nobody finishes a Breakfast Dagwood.”
“Yeah?”
“It always ends up being take-out. And you also ordered a shake.”
“I know.”
“I’m just letting you know, I’ve seen mighty people fall before these.”
“Okay.”
RJ just shrugged it off. Maybe it was the naiveté of it all. I had enjoyed the Breakfast Dagwood previously as well as a shake but never at once. Then again, RJ probably forgot the superpowers I have when it comes to eating. As a former wrestler I usually pigged out when a season would end. The amounts of food I would eat would be heroic. Not that this would happen for a long time. Rather, I would just gorge for a day or two when a season ended.
My shake came out. I proceeded to drink most of it but saved some of it along with the mixing cup for when my food arrived.
We all got our food and I looked at the sandwich that lie before me. It was a mound of scrambled egg, ham, a couple cheeses, bacon, sausage, and thick, grilled, buttered bread. Keep in mind also there were also hash browns as well. I’m sure even Orson Welles in his later years would look at this plate of food and tell me to relax.
Maybe RJ was going to be right. I mean, if he was right the that’s great. But there was that part of me that wanted to prove him wrong. This is the kind of a feat that makes the uber-mensch.
I proceeded to eat the whole thing. Sandwich, hash browns, the whole shake, and the mixing cup.
RJ and James sat in disbelief the rest of the night. I’m sure I topped it all off with a coffee but I can’t remember. I had already ascended Saturated Fat Mountain and anything I did after that really doesn’t stack up.
Through it all I never did feel like stopping. Even during my worst eating binges after a wrestling season I would have the sense to know when to stop. I guess that night I was legitimately hungry. Looking at the nutritional information for it though does make me think that I was probably a little reckless that night.
Breakfast Dagwood nutritional info:
http://www.thedailyplate.com/nutrition-calories/food/dennys/breakfast-dagwood
Oreo Blender Blaster nutritional info:
http://www.thedailyplate.com/nutrition-calories/food/dennys/desserts-oreo-blender-blaster
It is a little sad though to know that there is no Breakfast Dagwood any more. I have found you might be able to ask for a Moons Over My Hammy with hoagie bread in the event you would wish to go back to a simpler, fatter time. But I cannot say I recommend it unless you are feeling nihilistic.
It was a long day at work I’m sure because it was either that or just sheer audacity that allowed the following to happen.
I ordered my usual Oreo Blender Blaster but also a Breakfast Dagwood. For those that don’t remember, the Breakfast Dagwood was a monster of a sandwich. It was pretty much a Moons Over My Hammy with thick hoagie bread instead of toast and more meat. The meal also came with hash browns.
After the waitress took our order RJ shot me a look alternating between confusion and disbelief.
“You’re going to eat all that?”
“Yeah, why shouldn’t I?”
“Bob, nobody finishes a Breakfast Dagwood.”
“Yeah?”
“It always ends up being take-out. And you also ordered a shake.”
“I know.”
“I’m just letting you know, I’ve seen mighty people fall before these.”
“Okay.”
RJ just shrugged it off. Maybe it was the naiveté of it all. I had enjoyed the Breakfast Dagwood previously as well as a shake but never at once. Then again, RJ probably forgot the superpowers I have when it comes to eating. As a former wrestler I usually pigged out when a season would end. The amounts of food I would eat would be heroic. Not that this would happen for a long time. Rather, I would just gorge for a day or two when a season ended.
My shake came out. I proceeded to drink most of it but saved some of it along with the mixing cup for when my food arrived.
We all got our food and I looked at the sandwich that lie before me. It was a mound of scrambled egg, ham, a couple cheeses, bacon, sausage, and thick, grilled, buttered bread. Keep in mind also there were also hash browns as well. I’m sure even Orson Welles in his later years would look at this plate of food and tell me to relax.
Maybe RJ was going to be right. I mean, if he was right the that’s great. But there was that part of me that wanted to prove him wrong. This is the kind of a feat that makes the uber-mensch.
I proceeded to eat the whole thing. Sandwich, hash browns, the whole shake, and the mixing cup.
RJ and James sat in disbelief the rest of the night. I’m sure I topped it all off with a coffee but I can’t remember. I had already ascended Saturated Fat Mountain and anything I did after that really doesn’t stack up.
Through it all I never did feel like stopping. Even during my worst eating binges after a wrestling season I would have the sense to know when to stop. I guess that night I was legitimately hungry. Looking at the nutritional information for it though does make me think that I was probably a little reckless that night.
Breakfast Dagwood nutritional info:
http://www.thedailyplate.com/nutrition-calories/food/dennys/breakfast-dagwood
Oreo Blender Blaster nutritional info:
http://www.thedailyplate.com/nutrition-calories/food/dennys/desserts-oreo-blender-blaster
It is a little sad though to know that there is no Breakfast Dagwood any more. I have found you might be able to ask for a Moons Over My Hammy with hoagie bread in the event you would wish to go back to a simpler, fatter time. But I cannot say I recommend it unless you are feeling nihilistic.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Chapter 12: B.R. and A.R.
To focus a series of entries on Denny’s it is important to first define a timeline of sorts. Most commonly used is A.D. and B.C. in the Gregorian Calendar. Even Star Wars fanatics use Episode IV as a sort of “Year Zero,” defining which is before and after the events of the seminal film.
Here for the Fort Gratiot Denny’s I put forth a similar timeline based on the July 2003 renovation. Events pertaining to Denny’s will adhere to the B.R. ("Before Renovation") and A.R. ("After Renovation") timeline (sort of).
My first trips to Denny’s were in summer 2002. The last time I was at a Denny’s previous to that was probably elementary school. The first few times there I noticed there was an interesting crowd. But as Fall 2002 progressed the group was coming apart. I do not believe it was out of animosity but rather just people doing their own thing. By the time I became a regular in early 2003 this group had more or less vanished.
I wanted to become a regular. That group was pretty interesting when I first met them. But I didn’t like staying in Port Huron as late as them. I really had no reason yet other than the Rerun Film Series at Birchwood. But with the Winter 2003 semester going as late as it did (9:15 pm from Monday through Wednesdays) going to Denny’s seemed like the natural thing to do. At the time I was working in Utica on Fridays and would still make a trip up to Denny’s after work. Oh sure it was 50 miles away but I did the trip anyway.
I started going once in a while at first. My newly-acquired taste for coffee was fulfilled there.
I knew I would become a regular in early January. It was a Friday night and I had a date that didn’t go great. It wasn’t disastrous or anything; rather, it was just that nothing happened. I felt the night wasn’t over with so I decided to call RJ and see if he was at Denny’s. I was correct and I went there. I ordered a cup of coffee and an Oreo pie. I realized I had no more chances with the girl I went out with. But that was okay. I wasn’t that emotionally invested in her so moving on was easy.
After this, I became a pretty noticeable fixture in the smoking section despite the fact I’ve probably smoked 30 cigarettes in the past 6 years. When the 2002-2003 school year ended my attendance only increased.
Part of the reason I loved Denny’s was the ambience. The lights were just right. It was a soft, golden type of light. Going from school or work during the day to the night of Denny’s was comforting to the eyes. The color from those lights had the same type of character as the red light in the bar in Mean Streets. It was relaxing and easy on the eyes. I don’t like restaurants at night when they have especially bright or harsh lighting. There is a Chinese restaurant in Lapeer that would get my business more often if they turned down their lights once in a while. It is so bright in there it seems like they are using a fully functional Batsignal to light the space of a college conference room.
The lights made the difference at this Denny’s though. At other Denny’s the lights were a harsh florescent. The Denny’s by Lakeside Mall in Sterling Heights has this kind of lighting. If the coffee didn’t keep me up already the lights would.
The lights at Denny’s Fort Gratiot though were great. I went there once with someone late after a movie at Birchwood Mall. Granted, Denny’s isn’t the first choice for trying to become the significant other in one’s life but it was her choice to go. The surroundings that night though could have rivaled any other romantic place that would have probably been more preferable. The atmosphere was great that night.
July rolls around and it is announced that Denny’s would be undergoing a renovation for a week. Rumors were abound that the place was going to close down but I thought that was ridiculous. If they were going to close they would close. Denny’s isn’t known for being coy. Denny’s is a place that’s going to tell you the truth but will be chain smoking hand-rolled smokes into your face as it does so.
As the renovation happens it is decided that we go to the Big Boy’s that is slightly across the street. At the time they were closing down at midnight and that was a problem. It wasn’t conducive for binges of creativity or complaining about the lack of feminine commitment.
Finally, the day came when Denny’s reopened. RJ and I returned that night. I saw that the walls and tables now matched in a sort of marble grey kind of design. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.
The first thing I noticed were the lights.
The lights now were those harsh florescent lights that I hated. The place had a whole different feel to it. The lights were as sterile as the emergency rooms that they were probably intended for.
There was also something rotten in Fort Gratiot with the coffee. To my knowledge it was not the same kind of coffee anymore but more than that was the service for the coffee. The refills, at one time quite plentiful, decreased considerably.
Part of the reason I dug Denny’s was the way it fed my growing addiction to coffee. I wasn’t expecting a refill within two minutes of me finishing a mug but I did expect a refill to come within a few minutes. Those first few months of being a regular I had that wish. But now the coffee refills were coming once an hour, if that. It has hardly changed in the nearly 5 years since then.
I’m pretty sure that part of the reason for this new policy was the amount of coffee being consumed was eliminating any sort of profit obtained by the sale of one cup. I know there were times I was there so late that I lost count of how many cups I’d had. I tried to offset the amount I drank by getting a meal or tipping well. I did both often but I still missed those refills.
Another problem was the placemats. Before the renovation the placemats were blank on one side. The people I sat with or would chat with could be pretty interesting. People would be working on some pretty elaborate drawings. I took to making funny lists or raps. I challenged myself once to rhyme the whole dessert menu. I did it too. I still have it.
Many of these examples of “Denny’s Art” I kept. I have most all the raps, lists, and doodles I did along with other works done by the late night demons of Denny’s.
But now the placemats are double-sided. Granted, if I want to write I have my notebook with me usually or I type on my laptop. Yet there was a certain aesthetic quality to creating something on a placemat.
It has been over 4 years since the renovation. At this point I know the place better with the harsh lighting than without. But like David Lee Roth with Van Halen, I still feel compelled to go back where I came from. Sometimes the best way to grease the engines of creativity and life is vegetable oil.
***
I will try to post uncensored Denny’s art here soon. For now, here is my comrade Mark’s page of his Denny’s art. This is the kind of good stuff one could see walking into Denny’s.
http://www.mdsc.info/art-dennys.htm
Here for the Fort Gratiot Denny’s I put forth a similar timeline based on the July 2003 renovation. Events pertaining to Denny’s will adhere to the B.R. ("Before Renovation") and A.R. ("After Renovation") timeline (sort of).
My first trips to Denny’s were in summer 2002. The last time I was at a Denny’s previous to that was probably elementary school. The first few times there I noticed there was an interesting crowd. But as Fall 2002 progressed the group was coming apart. I do not believe it was out of animosity but rather just people doing their own thing. By the time I became a regular in early 2003 this group had more or less vanished.
I wanted to become a regular. That group was pretty interesting when I first met them. But I didn’t like staying in Port Huron as late as them. I really had no reason yet other than the Rerun Film Series at Birchwood. But with the Winter 2003 semester going as late as it did (9:15 pm from Monday through Wednesdays) going to Denny’s seemed like the natural thing to do. At the time I was working in Utica on Fridays and would still make a trip up to Denny’s after work. Oh sure it was 50 miles away but I did the trip anyway.
I started going once in a while at first. My newly-acquired taste for coffee was fulfilled there.
I knew I would become a regular in early January. It was a Friday night and I had a date that didn’t go great. It wasn’t disastrous or anything; rather, it was just that nothing happened. I felt the night wasn’t over with so I decided to call RJ and see if he was at Denny’s. I was correct and I went there. I ordered a cup of coffee and an Oreo pie. I realized I had no more chances with the girl I went out with. But that was okay. I wasn’t that emotionally invested in her so moving on was easy.
After this, I became a pretty noticeable fixture in the smoking section despite the fact I’ve probably smoked 30 cigarettes in the past 6 years. When the 2002-2003 school year ended my attendance only increased.
Part of the reason I loved Denny’s was the ambience. The lights were just right. It was a soft, golden type of light. Going from school or work during the day to the night of Denny’s was comforting to the eyes. The color from those lights had the same type of character as the red light in the bar in Mean Streets. It was relaxing and easy on the eyes. I don’t like restaurants at night when they have especially bright or harsh lighting. There is a Chinese restaurant in Lapeer that would get my business more often if they turned down their lights once in a while. It is so bright in there it seems like they are using a fully functional Batsignal to light the space of a college conference room.
The lights made the difference at this Denny’s though. At other Denny’s the lights were a harsh florescent. The Denny’s by Lakeside Mall in Sterling Heights has this kind of lighting. If the coffee didn’t keep me up already the lights would.
The lights at Denny’s Fort Gratiot though were great. I went there once with someone late after a movie at Birchwood Mall. Granted, Denny’s isn’t the first choice for trying to become the significant other in one’s life but it was her choice to go. The surroundings that night though could have rivaled any other romantic place that would have probably been more preferable. The atmosphere was great that night.
July rolls around and it is announced that Denny’s would be undergoing a renovation for a week. Rumors were abound that the place was going to close down but I thought that was ridiculous. If they were going to close they would close. Denny’s isn’t known for being coy. Denny’s is a place that’s going to tell you the truth but will be chain smoking hand-rolled smokes into your face as it does so.
As the renovation happens it is decided that we go to the Big Boy’s that is slightly across the street. At the time they were closing down at midnight and that was a problem. It wasn’t conducive for binges of creativity or complaining about the lack of feminine commitment.
Finally, the day came when Denny’s reopened. RJ and I returned that night. I saw that the walls and tables now matched in a sort of marble grey kind of design. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.
The first thing I noticed were the lights.
The lights now were those harsh florescent lights that I hated. The place had a whole different feel to it. The lights were as sterile as the emergency rooms that they were probably intended for.
There was also something rotten in Fort Gratiot with the coffee. To my knowledge it was not the same kind of coffee anymore but more than that was the service for the coffee. The refills, at one time quite plentiful, decreased considerably.
Part of the reason I dug Denny’s was the way it fed my growing addiction to coffee. I wasn’t expecting a refill within two minutes of me finishing a mug but I did expect a refill to come within a few minutes. Those first few months of being a regular I had that wish. But now the coffee refills were coming once an hour, if that. It has hardly changed in the nearly 5 years since then.
I’m pretty sure that part of the reason for this new policy was the amount of coffee being consumed was eliminating any sort of profit obtained by the sale of one cup. I know there were times I was there so late that I lost count of how many cups I’d had. I tried to offset the amount I drank by getting a meal or tipping well. I did both often but I still missed those refills.
Another problem was the placemats. Before the renovation the placemats were blank on one side. The people I sat with or would chat with could be pretty interesting. People would be working on some pretty elaborate drawings. I took to making funny lists or raps. I challenged myself once to rhyme the whole dessert menu. I did it too. I still have it.
Many of these examples of “Denny’s Art” I kept. I have most all the raps, lists, and doodles I did along with other works done by the late night demons of Denny’s.
But now the placemats are double-sided. Granted, if I want to write I have my notebook with me usually or I type on my laptop. Yet there was a certain aesthetic quality to creating something on a placemat.
It has been over 4 years since the renovation. At this point I know the place better with the harsh lighting than without. But like David Lee Roth with Van Halen, I still feel compelled to go back where I came from. Sometimes the best way to grease the engines of creativity and life is vegetable oil.
***
I will try to post uncensored Denny’s art here soon. For now, here is my comrade Mark’s page of his Denny’s art. This is the kind of good stuff one could see walking into Denny’s.
http://www.mdsc.info/art-dennys.htm
Friday, February 15, 2008
Chapter 11: Denny's Prologue
Starting Monday will be the first in a week-long series of posts about the late-night Mecca of the polis. That being the one and only Denny’s. There will be other week-long series for other locations but Denny’s will be the first to get epic-blog treatment.
Denny’s has an undeniable pop culture aura about it. One of the best moments in the first Santa Clause is the Christmas Eve dinner at Denny’s after the failure of cooking the turkey at home. At a Cinematic Titanic party recently Joel Hodgson revealed that he wrote the MST3k opening theme at a Denny’s. One of the finer moments of Family Guy (slim as they come now) is when Chris describes something along the lines that in his new town there should be two Denny’s. With that being the case you can say you don’t want to go to a certain one but go to “the good one” on the other side of town.
But Denny’s has a bad rap. Rightfully so. Some of the waiters aren’t exactly that great. The turnover rate is pretty great. In the process they don’t learn how to operate in such a place. Sometimes the Oreo shakes come with HUGE chunks of cookie, a coffee refill may take a lifetime, or even something like a water may not arrive until the meal has been over for some time. That’s the bad rap that comes with the territory.
Yet Denny’s has another bad rap that is largely undeserved I think. There will always be the pervading sentiment that “Nobody’s at Denny’s” or “There’s nothing to do there.” But at this point in history it is as cliché to say that about Denny’s as it is to say MTV doesn’t play music videos. Both things have been argued about enough times and it doesn’t do a bit of good.
Do I agree with said sentiments? Yes. But I try to do something about it. With the right people and absurd amounts of coffee that place will be hoppin’ like Judy Garland after a trip to Walgreen’s.
For me though, Denny’s became a haven. Need to unwind after a newspaper production? Denny’s. Raven is closed? Denny’s. Significant other break up with you? Denny’s. Want to hang out with a hopeful significant other after a late movie? Denny’s.
Sure, it really began to go downhill over time. I’ll cover those reasons in the next week. But no matter what I find myself drawn to the place. Like a famous band returning for a hometown show I have to go to Denny’s whenever I return to my polis.
Denny’s was and still is my place. Being up that late at night I’m usually drunk, creative, or a combination of both. As such, I’m not into Maine lobster or Korean Barbeque. No, I want a Moons Over My Hammy, an Oreo Blender Blaster, coffee, and water. That’s late night fuel that creates sketches, scripts, stories, and integral events. That place makes for great jokes and at least one of the best theme songs ever.
With such an spiritual and physical attachment to the place I think it is best to go into the DeLorean and look back on what made Denny’s my polis’ version of the Double R Diner, The Max, The Satellite of Love, and From Dusk ‘til Dawn all rolled into one deep-fried, greasy, burgers-as-appetizers getaway.
Denny’s has an undeniable pop culture aura about it. One of the best moments in the first Santa Clause is the Christmas Eve dinner at Denny’s after the failure of cooking the turkey at home. At a Cinematic Titanic party recently Joel Hodgson revealed that he wrote the MST3k opening theme at a Denny’s. One of the finer moments of Family Guy (slim as they come now) is when Chris describes something along the lines that in his new town there should be two Denny’s. With that being the case you can say you don’t want to go to a certain one but go to “the good one” on the other side of town.
But Denny’s has a bad rap. Rightfully so. Some of the waiters aren’t exactly that great. The turnover rate is pretty great. In the process they don’t learn how to operate in such a place. Sometimes the Oreo shakes come with HUGE chunks of cookie, a coffee refill may take a lifetime, or even something like a water may not arrive until the meal has been over for some time. That’s the bad rap that comes with the territory.
Yet Denny’s has another bad rap that is largely undeserved I think. There will always be the pervading sentiment that “Nobody’s at Denny’s” or “There’s nothing to do there.” But at this point in history it is as cliché to say that about Denny’s as it is to say MTV doesn’t play music videos. Both things have been argued about enough times and it doesn’t do a bit of good.
Do I agree with said sentiments? Yes. But I try to do something about it. With the right people and absurd amounts of coffee that place will be hoppin’ like Judy Garland after a trip to Walgreen’s.
For me though, Denny’s became a haven. Need to unwind after a newspaper production? Denny’s. Raven is closed? Denny’s. Significant other break up with you? Denny’s. Want to hang out with a hopeful significant other after a late movie? Denny’s.
Sure, it really began to go downhill over time. I’ll cover those reasons in the next week. But no matter what I find myself drawn to the place. Like a famous band returning for a hometown show I have to go to Denny’s whenever I return to my polis.
Denny’s was and still is my place. Being up that late at night I’m usually drunk, creative, or a combination of both. As such, I’m not into Maine lobster or Korean Barbeque. No, I want a Moons Over My Hammy, an Oreo Blender Blaster, coffee, and water. That’s late night fuel that creates sketches, scripts, stories, and integral events. That place makes for great jokes and at least one of the best theme songs ever.
With such an spiritual and physical attachment to the place I think it is best to go into the DeLorean and look back on what made Denny’s my polis’ version of the Double R Diner, The Max, The Satellite of Love, and From Dusk ‘til Dawn all rolled into one deep-fried, greasy, burgers-as-appetizers getaway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
