I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I stumbled through the door of the Rat Tail Cafe (”You run over ‘em, we grill ‘em”).  The clock on the wall said 7:52.  She would be arriving in precisely eight minutes. 

“Hey Spud,” yelled Sally, who was the waitress, hostess, cook, manager, and owner.  I nodded and replied with a hey. 

All but two of the tables were taken, and several pairs of eyes glanced up and acknowledged my presence.  As I walked to a table — I picked what looked to be the cleanest of the two — I was met with the usual greetings.

Alvin Hoffer, manager of Gee Whiz Groceries (”If you open it and it’s blue, don’t eat it”), looked up, said, “Hey Spud, hot enough for you?” and nodded.

Ty Stetley, who worked at the local dry cleaners (”We get the smell out of the clothes but not out of you”), looked up, said, “Hey Spud, hot enough for you?” and nodded.

Phyllis Anniset, owner of Phyllis’ Pedicure (”We do things that make your toes curl”), looked up, said, “Hey Spud, hot enough for you?” and nodded and smiled.

One thing about the Rat Tail: you might question where the food came from, and the conversation wasn’t always exactly what William F. Buckley would have called stimulating, but you could never question the friendliness of the clientele.

Clem Lee (”If it’s got notes, I can play it”) was sitting over in the corner playing his harmonica, giving us the most stirring rendition of Elvira that I’ve heard in a long time.

Sally called out across the room, “What’ll it be, Spud, the usual?”

“No Sal, I got a date this morning.”

At this, all conversation in the establishment stopped and, in unison, every person — and I mean every single soul — said, “Ooooooo,” with a pitch that rose and then descended, sort of like a vocal rendition of the wave.

“Who’s the lucky gal, Spud?” Hank Westermeyer, owner of Comfy Coffins (”Guaranteed worm free for the first sixty days”) asked, three tables over.

“Yeah, who is she?” Marty Budson, owner of Marty’s Hair Care (”You’ll never part with it”), echoed.

“Well,” I began.  “It’s a long story.  I met her online a few nights ago, and …”

“Oh not another computer geek,” Sal sighed.  “You know what happened with the last one,” she said, directing the question at everyone in the room but me.