I really want breakfast

Mike and I had some time off together just after Labour Day weekend so the plan was to go camping. Oh wait. I don't like camping. Scratch that idea then, let's just have a stay-cation. Morning of day one starts off quite late as we slept in. Mike's brother was here for the weekend and we were catching up on some z's. When we finally get our asses in gear we head to The Lion's Den for some grub. Don't judge, I make a great breaky, but we're on vacation!

This place is everything you want a mom and pop diner to be. A small hole in the wall kind of place that only accepts cash and is manned by the 70 year old owner and his wife who does the cooking. We are only the second table in the joint, but at this time it's nearly 1230 and breakfast is over. He has given us menus for lunch/dinner and the daily specials are photocopied pieces of paper clipped to the menu. Shit, breakfast is done being served at 12. Fuck, I really need some bacon and eggs.

M: Do you want to go somewhere else?
T: I'll feel bad getting up and leaving, he's already poured us some shitty tasting water.
M: Well, it's up to you, we can go or you can have some lunch.

When gramps comes over I politely ask if there is any breakfast, he looks at the clock, back at me, looks to his wife, and lets me know I can order breaky if I'd like. Of course! Except he says this: "Eggs over easy, brown toast?" Uhhh...sure. (I'm not a big fan of eggs over easy, and I like white toast, but I feel like I'm pushing my luck here with grandpa so I'll eat what he serves me). My orange juice comes in a can! What the hell?! Mike orders the daily paper-clipped special, Veal Cutlettes with Macaroni Lentil soup.

I ask Mike how his tastes, and he lets me know the soup is really good, the veggies must be the frozen bag kind, but the mashed potatoes and veal are pretty alright. My breakfast turns out be to be bang on. Eggs were done perfect (even if not the preferred way) and the hashbrowns are great! I always want to eat all the hashbrowns first because they are so yummy but I ration them so I can have them as my last bite.

As we're eating gramps is wandering around talking to us, or maybe at us, and we're never sure if we should be replying to his comments. Maybe he's just a crazy old man and isn't talking to us at all. We do some head nodding and "yups" just to cover our asses.

I have scarfed mine down. Seriously record time I think. But it is now time to move on with our stay-cation and wander up and down 17th ave. After we paid the bill and got in the car Mike asks me the new standard question:

M:Will you go back again?
T: Nope, I was mad that it isn't breakfast all day, and there are lots more breaky places we haven't tried yet. So no, it wasn't a good enough impression for me to return.

This seems to be my deciding factor if I like a place or not. Mike will ask me each time we leave somewhere new and my answer tells him how much I enjoyed it.

After our walk through downtown the next question arises.

M: Beer?
T: Yes please!