I am ashamed of my self, as a native of New Jersey, that I've gone this long living here and not enjoyed a meal at my local diner. The Four Seasons is just down 209, where we've driven by on numerous occasions, on our way to flea markets or grocery stores or wilderness trails. Today I would end all of that.
I was barely into my second slice of under-battered french toast when Yuula knocked her entire cup of milk on the floor. As it puddled up around some electrical wires by the wall I remember hoping our TV (when did diners get personal TVs at each table) didn't short out and that Yuula didn't try to drink the rest of my orange juice in lieu of her own refreshment. I left the girl a nice tip so... I guess we'll never be going there again.
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