At 2 AM this Saturday we headed to the Bridge View Diner in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. It seemed like the rational thing to do. So that’s what we did. Looking back on it now at 4:15 AM it was a great decision. My week had been filled with great decisions as usual but this tops the list - a list that includes me deciding I need more gum in my life. I’m making big changes.
At the diner we looked around to see the Verizono Bridge, but they must had put the tarp over it because – you can’t see it! False advertising, but we overcame and ordered anyway. The weirdo I was with ordered French Toast and Ginger Ale. I ordered the Chicken Oriental with Peppers and a Coke. Obviously I’m the more experienced orderer. Or at least that’s what I thought. Chicken’s good. Oriental…um?...good…right?...and peppers are good. That’s why this guy ordered it. Before we finished ordering the food was already on it’s way to our table. I saw it coming. It was 2 AM and we weren’t in the frame of mind to wonder why or how it was already prepared. They're just that good at Bridge View Diner. They're just that good – that you have to say it twice – I didn’t stutter.
It wasn’t really ready that quickly. But the magically fast way these diners prepare food makes me uncomfortable. Somebody needs to investigate this. I’ll tell you what – it’s more than likely not going to be me.
I wasn’t aware of this but I ordered cole slaw and that came first. Oh yeah, and it came with deliciously smelling pickles. The cole slaw-n-pickle combo created an interesting aroma that led one to believe they might vomit sometime in the near future. We both felt nauseous so I first tried to hide the slaw behind the ketchup bottle. You’ll be surprised – that didn’t work. Next, I pushed it to the end of the table behind the two cups of H2O. That satisfied my nostrils but that weirdo I was with needed it to go. So for the next five minutes I kept trying to put it on the table behind me without any of the waiters seeing me. I’ve been known to be good at things similar to this – like stealing a fry from the lonely solo guy that went to the bathroom to do – not even God knows what. Maybe go to the bathroom – I do not know, and he doesn’t know I stole two fries and licked his toast. Does it really matter at this point? The cook already did that anyways – I could taste it.
But putting cole slaw on another table isn’t part of my repertoire – even if I did put that on my resume when applying for a waiting position at this very diner.
To spite the expert predictions on ESPN, I overcame again, and successfully placed the smelly slaw on the table behind me without anyone’s notice. I’d say we shared a chuckle, but I don’t chuckle. Somebody’s got to have some standards. You allow a chuckle or two in and it gets hard to look in the mirror. We laughed though. The debate whether that’s the best medicine lingers.
The waiter brought us our main course and asked if we needed anything else. Nope we didn’t. “Move on with your bad self” so I can eat this here Chicken Oriental. He moved and realized the cole slaw had moved too. He asked if there was anything wrong with it. I said, “Too much slaw”. He took it to the kitchen and more than likely told the cook, “There’s been more complaints about your cole slaw”. A fight more than likely pursued, the cook arguing, “One customer says too must cole, the other too much slaw. It’s not like the old days when people just accepted cole slaw the way it is. Everybody’s gotta have their specialty slaw. Well, not on my watch…” By now, the waiter more than likely left the kitchen, bringing the same cole slaw I didn’t eat and gave it to another customer. More than likely.
Your anticipation for what happened with the main course matches what our anticipation was to eat it – and like us, you will be disappointed. Weirdo’s French Toast, and I quote (which I don’t do often because I have enough fascinating things to say), “tasted like freezer”. Like I said, um, weirdo, right? What does freezer taste like? No, seriously? This is like not being able to find her itch. I have an itch, but I can’t find it? What? Things like that create revelations to why somebody would order French Toast in the first place. I’m right. I am the more experienced orderer. Or, again, that’s what I thought.
Onto this Chicken Oriental – with Peppers! I’ve been told not to assume – and you know that corny-ass joke well – because you’re corny. But I assumed, and any rational person that’s up at 2 AM would think, the peppers would be red. Red peppers go on chicken sandwiches. Green peppers are used more for a pizza topper. That should be followed by brackets, an author and page number because I did my research for this article, but this stuff is also common knowledge - - common knowledge that apparently didn’t make it over that imaginary bridge this diner advertises. Should one not assume there’s a bridge within view of The Bridge View Diner. No, Microsoft Word, do not correct that period and make it a question mark. That was Rhetorical with a capital “R” (for, well Rhetorical, and Red Pepper!).
My point being (and it is being because my points alive), they put green peppers on my chicken sandwich. What planet do these people come from – Mars? Well, Mars isn’t even a planet anymore so they don’t even come from a planet. This does not excuse them from the green pepper on the chicken sandwich mistake. You won’t believe this because you’re belief system is extremely flawed, but it gets worse. I had forgotten my pocket ruler, which I usually have, which may lead you to believe I’m a dork, which will continue to be true until you find yourself in a situation and need a ruler – maybe he isn’t a dork. And now you’ve become the dork – Dork. Why bring up the ruler? Well, I estimated that the chicken sandwich hung out of the roll 2 inches. If you look on the back of my career card (includes eating stats, how many chicken sandwiches conquered, etc) you will see that I have eaten approximately 3,200 chicken sandwiches in my lifetime – what what. That is about 2 per week, 10 per month, 120 per year. I have never seen chicken stick out like this. Where’s the Obama Administration on this one? If our restaurants can’t get our sandwiches correct then how are we going to beat Al Qaeda? You would think the black dude’s administration would know how to regulate chicken. I guess that’s the true reason you shouldn’t assume. You assume, and then the black guys fuck up the chicken.
Time passed, and then time passed a couple more times. For a few seconds time didn’t pass – which makes no sense because I said seconds. But you catch my drift. I agree my drift is a great topic of conversation, but let us focus on our diner convo. Our fascinating conversation enabled us to overcome the massive blunders by this diner. Yeah, hand quotes, “diner”. She complemented my light eyebrows; I complemented my nice calf muscles. She has nice brows too, but I felt it was bad table manners to get that sexual in public so I decided to complement myself. That’s good anywhere manners - plus, have you seen my calves?
Thinking I knew the answer and feeling stupid asking but decided to anyways, I asked, “Is it cole slaw or cold slaw?” “It’s cole slaw, “ she answered in that “that’s obvious” tone. I raised my brows with the “don’t give me attitude” attitude, and said, “Yeah, I thought it was cole…and what’s cole…or slaw for that matter?” “I don’t know…what’s a table,” she asked. Pointing to the table, I described it’s meaning like Webster, the little black kid who grew up to create the dictionary, would, “It’s that”. So she pointed to the cole slaw saying that that is cole slaw…and then we broke up. The slaw debate has broken up couples for centuries.
We sat in silence, eating our Freezer French Toast and Overgrown Green! Peppered Oriental Chicken Sandwich. I thought to myself, more than likely we’ll get back together. Time passed. And never has it been more likely - but more than likely, time will continue to pass...and...
We got back together. I’m still debating with myself whether it’s because she couldn’t resist the brows, or was it the calves? You’re right, probably both – a deadly combo.
Exiting the diner, we said we’d never go there again…but more than likely…
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