2007.02.07
Fifties Diner
“It was like a train wreck – you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.”
I snap out of my daydream and regard my lunch companions, realizing I have no idea what they are talking about. No doubt it was some anecdote from a drunken frat party a few years ago when the four of us were in university together. It’s easy to wax nostalgic about those days, now that all of us have real jobs in the real world. This entire road trip is really an attempt to recapture some of the magic of those days, though none of us would admit it.
Where the hell are we, anyway? We made it as far as Kelowna yesterday before Joe announced that we were all starting to stink and that we needed to find a hot shower pronto. Nobody argued, and I think we were all glad for the break and a rest. Steve’s 89 Tercel was a little small for us four guys.
But now we’re a half day further down the road, a half day I spent sleeping with my neck uncomfortably propped on my jacket as a pillow. Downing the rest of our lunches, we head back to the car. I notice a few signs on the way. Hope, BC. We aren’t far from Vancouver now. The plan is to spend a couple of days there, then head south to Seattle or Portland, maybe further. So long as we make it back to Calgary in ten days, it doesn’t really matter to any of us.
The lull of the engine and the gentle vibration of the vehicle as it reaches highway speeds make me realize how tired I am. I curl up as best I can on the sticky vinyl seat, and quickly fall fast asleep.
“Dave. Dave!”
“Mmmph?”
“Dude, you’re snoring. Wake up!”
“Mmph.”
My eyes finally blink open, just as Mike opens his mouth to say something. “‘Morning, sunshine! We’re just about at Hope, and we’re gonna stop for some lunch.”
“There’s a great little diner just off the main drag,” Joe chimes in. “You’ll love it – straight outta the 50s. Almost like it’s still stuck there.”
“Hey, wait a sec – You said Hope, right? I thought we left Hope already.”
“Dude, it’s only 11:30. We didn’t even leave Kelowna until 9:00. This pieceashit don’t move that fast.”
I guess it was a dream. Except why would I dream about a diner in Hope, BC? Maybe as I was dozing in the car I picked up on the guys talking about it. That must be it.
“So there’s this guy at the party. Don’t know who invited him, but there he was. Maybe he was crashing or somethin’,” said Joe, in between gulps of cheeseburger. “Anyways, he was about the saddest thing you ever saw. Clothes straight outta the 80s, and a mullet. I mean, come on, the mullet went out of style in what, 1986?”
“I’m not sure the mullet was ever in style.” Steve, ever the fashionista. “I never had one, thank god.”
“Well, I’m not sure the Tercel was ever in style, and certainly not in 1989,” quips Mike. He had never lived down his 3rd grade class picture, and it’s still a bit of a sore spot with him.
Everyone laughs, and Joe continues on with his story while the rest of us continue eating.
“So this guy, OK, nobody knew who he was. He looks around the party for a bit, then walks straight up to the most beautiful girl there, and straight out asks her for her number. She totally shuts him down, but undeterred, he turns and starts talking to one of her friends and asks her for her number. By this point, half the people at the party were just standing there, watching this guy. It was like a train wreck – you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.”
“What did you just say?” I interject.
“Dude, haven’t you been listening? This guy was a total dork…”
“Yeah, I heard ya. That last bit, though. Whadja say about it bein’ like a train wreck?”
“Yeah, like a train wreck. Didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away. Come on, you must’ve heard that one before.”
“Oh, sure, I guess so.” My poor attempt at a cover fooled anyone, but nobody had the wherewithal to call me on it.
“Well, I’m stuffed”, says Joe, and follows it up with a loud belch as punctuation. Where he had time to eat with all his talking I’ll never know. “Let’s make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here.”
Lost in my own thoughts, I follow the rest of the crew back to the Tercel. Had it just been a dream?
Steve’s driving, and Mike’s flipping through tracks on the iPod, looking for something. Next thing I know, we’re all being assaulted with the opening guitar riff from Faster Kill Pussycat.
“Aw, come on, dude. Not again. We’ve already listened to this disc like three times this trip. You’ve got what, like, 12 gigs of music on that thing? Why not something else?” complains Joe.
“Cuz this is the shit! I bet this is what Madonna rocks out to when she cranks up her iPod.”
“Who cares what that tramp listens to?” retorts Joe.
“And how d’ya know she even owns an iPod?” asks Steve.
“Everyone knows that, stupid.”
The banter continues, but I’m not listening. I’m yawning. Why have I been sleeping so much lately? Oh well. Being well rested when we get to Vancouver is a good thing – these guys will want to party all night. So I doze off.
“Hey, Dave. Dave! Wake up, dude.”
I open my eyes and stretch, taking in my surroundings groggily.
“Hey, it’s still light out. We in Vancouver yet?”
“Does it look like we’re in Van?” asks Steve sarcastically, guesturing out the window. “We’re almost in Hope, and I’m starving. Everyone cool if we stop for some grub? I know a great little diner…”
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