Where We Went
After a night of too much Wild Turkey, too much urban cowboy
line dancing, and too many Value Pride cigarettes, is your
cranium bursting like a woman giving birth to an obese baby
of the night? In the aftermath inferno of a bad drunk, at
this time of night--or is it morning?--where do you go?
Home? No. Spin yourself into the All-American Dream--no
more hippie shakes or home fries--it's 2 am, James Dean/Marilyn
Monroe time, the time of the Real American Diner, home to
the $3.59 Original Grand Slam Breakfast. Yes, people, wannabes
go to Montage for the Old Mac. The real freaks go to Denny's.
Sitting right smack dab between Sleep Country USA and I-5
lies that beautiful oasis of cream-colored cement, green
metal sheet roof and a loud red-and-yellow sign: Denny's.
Park your car, folks, you're home. Stroll past the pay phones
and into the smoke-filled lobby. Welcome inside. Walk past
the old-fashioned order up sign, past the metal claw machine
where no one wins the handsome stuffed animal, past the
daily specials written in pink fluorescent pen on a features
board. Follow the waitress, mid-50s, worn down and not willing
to take any crap (ah, but the heart beats wildly). Observe,
you are now inside the beast: dim lighting, purple carpet,
semi-circular purple half-vinyl cushioned booths, fake polished
wood Formica tabletops, Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight"
on the radio. Smoking/non-smoking, it doesn't matter--it's
all the same room. You can even sit up close to the cooks,
purple swivel chairs and all. America at its finest.
But really, stay for awhile. Sit down in a booth and recline.
Smoke a cigarette or inhale second hand. Enjoy a bottomless
glass of Coca-Cola. Watch the mixed crowd: truckers on too
much speed, stuffed into tight-fitting shirts that barely
hold in their slopping bellies; the gang of drag queens
in green, pink and gold glitter dresses; teenage gangsters
in L.A. Raiders parkas; a group of men who look like they
just came from the local lane in their David Allen Coe bowling
jackets. Listen to the skater punk behind you reel in his
audience, straight-faced: "Goddamn, if I knew I was going
to come out of a blackout in the middle of a midget convention.
All of them screaming at me: impostor, fake, kill the insensitive
tall beast, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah." Order the greasiest,
most fat-filled entree, and say yes when the waitress asks
if you would like a cup of coffee in addition to your Coke.
This is hangover heaven. Your T-bone steak and eggs lie
in front of you. The cigarette you've just lit is a bonus
twin to the one you already had burning in the ashtray.
Enjoy yourself. There is still the rest of your life.
Denny's, glorious
Denny's
12201 N Center St., Jantzen Beach,
285-0735 (or any identical Denny's, for that
matter)
COMEDY LISTINGS:
Michael Mancini
"Incredible energy." "Random-fire jokes." "A hot talent."
Harvey's Comedy Club
436 NW 6th Ave,
241-0338
8 pm Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday,
8 and 10:30 pm Friday, 6:30, 9 and 11:30 pm Saturday,
July 12-16
$8-$10
ComedySportz
Competitive improv highly favored by the all-ages set.
1963 NW Kearney St., 236-8888
9 pm Friday, 7:30
and 9:30 pm Saturday,
July 14-15
$10, $9 with a can
of food for the Oregon Food Bank
Original Comedy Acts
Pro-Am laffs, this week featuring Auggie Smith.
Jimmy Mak's,
300 NW 10th Ave.,
295-6542
9 pm Monday, July 17
52nd Ave. Sports Bar, 5201 NE Sandy Blvd., 288-0313
9 pm Tuesday, July 18
$3
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