Sometimes, it’s NOT the only good thing that happens after midnight…

Denny’s is well-known amongst college students to be a great place to go around midnight–and only around that time.  It’s just not as great before then.  However, I had an experience last night that I’m not sure how to feel about it.

It began with a trip to St. George with my Guy to visit his friend who was down for the weekend and wanted to hang out.  We met up with him (after a trip to the mall to replace my Guy’s destroyed and over-youthful shoes) at another friend’s house, where we enjoyed watching A Goofy Movie, drinking soda, and throwing water bottles and stuffed animals in Santa hats at one of the other guys there.  We then made our expedition to Denny’s around 11:00.  By this time, the rest of the young men with us and I were very hungry people, and probably would have killed a cow ourselves if it meant us getting our food faster.

We were quickly seated in a booth for six (as that was how many people we had in our party, however, with no offense intended, some in our group seemed of the breed that loved food and should not often be shoved into a booth with more than one other person of their particular interests) and looked over our menus for our meal of choice.  Soon after, our waiter, Tyler, I believe his name was, arrived.  He was of a rather small stature, with blonde hair and rose studs in his ears.  He appeared to be of the breed who ought to still be working in his family’s five-buck-pizza or McDonald’s, but I suppose Denny’s is okay, too.  Everything seemed to be in order as he took our orders–he had originally come just for our drink orders, but we were all already ready to order our meals.  Four of them ordered the slam burger–including Myguy, to my… well.  I don’t agree with all that food being shoved into one’s larges facial orifice–and I ordered an Ultimate Skillet (only after being told they were out of soup after 10).  Tyler even managed to create a chuckle and gain some rapport by jokingly telling our last member, who ordered the all-you-can-eat pancakes, that he expected great things of this young man, and something else about eating at least three plates.

Tyler took our menus and walked away, and we had little idea what interesting things were about to befall our poor table.

The real fun began about five minutes after Tyler had left to take care of our drink orders.  Another waitress was passing by and offered to take our orders, to which we informed her that we had already had our orders taken.  Another five minutes passed.  No drinks.  Finally, another woman approached our table and asked us for our drink orders again.  I thought nothing of it, as when I worked at Dragon Hill, drink orders would occasionally get jumbled up with other drink orders.  We told her and a few minutes later I received my hot cocoa and everyone else received their own various drinks.  Then Tyler returned to re-take our food orders, graciously apologizing about how this was his first day, and he was originally a cook and they had pulled him out that night to wait tables and blah blah blah.  We laughed and told him it was okay–especially me, as I am familiar with how bewildering waiting tables can be.  However, I had no idea it was THIS bewildering, especially when one has been provided with pen and paper to write down our orders.  I wonder what he was doing with the pad the first time he took our orders? I imagine it to look something like this:

Either way, I think he did the same on both tickets because approximately fifteen minutes later, as we were about ready to resort to cannibalism, our table was approached by yet another waiter offering to take our food order, and apologizing profusely for the confusion.  When asked about Tyler, he appeared to be ready to embark on a rant that would likely surpass anything I could write here, but instead continued taking our order and said “I don’t want to say anything bad…” and shut his mouth on the subject with a very uncomfortable chuckle.  It appeared that everyone in the restaurant was in a state of confusion, as this same man who finally seemed capable of getting our order through to the cooks had previously been wandering from table to table with a small tray of beverages (come to think of it, they may have been ours) and a look on his face similar to this:

I lost track of him as he continued wandering around until he came to take our order.  And thus, about ten minutes later, around 12:15, we at last received our food from an angel of a woman named Dee, who did a wonderful job taking care of us and even brought us a caraffe of water and me another cup of hot chocolate.  I could have hugged her had she not been rushing to take care of her own assigned tables.  Instead, I may just name my first child after her.

In the end, we got our drinks for free because all our tickets said “no beverage” on them, and they were “giving away the farm in Tyler’s section tonight because… Well…” and then she left us our receipts before she said something truly passive aggressive.  I think I was the only one to leave a tip, specified to go to Dee.

And that is why I love Denny’s.  Or something like that.

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