The Usual

I have always been someone who thoroughly enjoys “people watching.”  People interacting with one another, to me, are one of the most phenomenal things to sit back and watch.  I love thinking about social experiments, social networking, and social class and how each of these things actually come to be. 

I also like to think about “social status.”  The fascinating thing about social status is that the only way one really obtains a social status is by being judged by someone else.  Judging people is a whole different blog, but for anyone to say they don’t judge others on a regular basis, whether good or bad, is kidding themselves.  (I’m not talking negative-stereotype style judgment, I’m just talking human-nature-first-impression style judgment.  whatever, I’ll write about it later.)

There are thousands of “social statuses” I could talk about, but I’m convinced one of the most prestigious of statuses has to be that of being a “regular” at a local breakfast joint.  While for some people it could be a depressing, eating disorder-inducing status, I view it as a rather comforting feeling of accomplishment. 

There is only one way to accurately judge this, and to me you are a regular when you can walk in and order “the usual.”  I am happy to announce to everyone that I have finally achieved this celebrated status.  I cannot remember the exact date, but it was early one Friday morning of this school year.  I got up early, as I do every Friday, and made my way to Jack’s Diner on route 23 in Delaware to meet Brent for breakfast.  We walked in and sat down at “our” booth, and when Danielle (“our” waitress) greeted us, she said, “you guys want the usual?”

WOW!!!!    What a feeling!  We had done it!  We had reached the peak of social status.  We were able to order “the usual.”  It was kind of like that feeling that Ace Ventura probably got when he couldn’t connect Einhorn and Finkle, and then finally his little dog laid down on the picture of Ray Finkle’s head and he saw the face with long hair (Ok, maybe bad analogy, but to me it makes perfect sense) and then was overcome with excitement.  I find myself wanting the Diner even more now, my excitement is more each week because I know when I walk in, I don’t have to say anything.   My coffee, and water come as I sit, and all it takes is a nod of the head for “the usual.”

Our weekly trip to the Diner gives me something to constantly look forward to.  It is a symbol of a Friday, sort of a weekend appetizer.   I’ve heard the saying that the only certain things in life are death and taxes.  True I guess, but another certainty is where I’ll be for breakfast next Friday morning, the usual.

 

Until Next Time,