59 Diner

Alright guys I’m going to be honest with you. 59 Diner had me the minute I read their sign, because they had my favorite word (diner. Followed by bubble, followed by glitter, followed by quadratic. I mean tell me those last three aren’t so fun to say. And the first isn’t so fun to eat at.) incorporated into their name. But I’m going to try to be impartial and unbiased in order to trick you guys into thinking I have some sort of integrity and didn’t spend the last twenty minutes in an ethical debate with myself over whether or not it was OK to illegally download “We Are Young” by Fun. onto my computer. I don’t think anybody won because either way Fun. didn’t get any money from me but also I didn’t get the song and I now no longer believe in win-win situations -9.

Back to 59 Diner. I’m going to share with you guys the story of my first trip to 59 Diner because it’s the most embarrassing story of my entire existence, and I think it’s time that I shared more with you guys because let’s be honest you don’t know enough awkward details of my life. So. Picture the scene. Last summer. “That” time of the month. I had a job interview in the morning that I’d arrived for twenty minutes late through every fault of my own (the fact that I actually was offered the job after this dismal display is not relevant to the story, just picture my self-loathing). I was wearing a dress that I’d bought even though it was a little saggy in the breast area and altered to fit my needs. Friend-zone Thomas texted me to see if I wanted to go to a movie to be cheered up. I showed up twenty minutes late to the movie too, because I was fat and ugly. Are starting to feel the despair that only a woman can feel? The movie ends and as I’m walking down the stairs, I trip and fall flat on my butt. I blink back tears. Did Thomas see my butt? Had I inadvertently exposed myself to a boy I’ll admit to the internet I had a crush on?  My shame, self-hatred, and general melancholy had almost reached its peak. I blackmailed Thomas into going to the nearest place which would sell me a chocolate malt, which thankfully turned out to be the Happiest Place on Earth, 59 Diner. We arrive and slide into the booth, and I’m immediately self-conscious. Had I done a good enough job altering my dress? Were my breasts too exposed to this boy? Was he getting a show, both my bum and my bosom in one day? I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. I wanted to dissolve into a puddle. I was the worst of the worst – habitually late, sluttily dressed, and, suddenly, crying in public! My first trip to 59 Diner, and here I was, crying in front of Thomas, who now looked terrified!

Guys. 59 Diner came through for me. Our waitress was on the scene in an instant, refilling my water glass as quickly as I could gulp it tearfully down, giving me hugs, discretely checking to make sure Thomas wasn’t abusing me. You know what she said to me? Guys, she said, and I’m quoting this word for word even though it happened a full year ago, “Anybody wearing a dress as beautiful as that shouldn’t be sad.” +980! She didn’t think I’d done a humiliating job of altering anything! She though my cleavage was delightfully covered! Suddenly I wasn’t even sure that Thomas had seen my butt at the movies, for one thing it was dark, for another, I mean when I slipped, I mostly just sat down, the angles and trajectories were all wrong for him to have seen anything! I wasn’t fat or ugly! I was slender and beautiful! Obviously Thomas wasn’t too terrified of my tears, now we’re dating in real life, and nobody even cared how late I was that day! Everything turned out fine, and it was just because I went to 59 Diner!

I almost don’t even know what to tell you about this place, because it’s so magical I can’t narrow down the exact things I want to share with you. They have all sorts of quarter machines that you can use to get keychains or solid gold jewelry or stickers or lower back tattoos +76 there are few things I love more than fake lower back tattoos for wearing underneath my most nun-like clothes where nobody will actually see them. There’s a neon sign where the guy who makes the malts stands that says “Head Jerk” and I feel like it’s 100% serious and not even a little bit of a joke +41.

No, you’re right, there is one fact about 59 Diner that surpasses all others. The 59 Diner I go to is on Shepherd, just off of highway 59. Right, that makes sense. That’s why it’s called 59 Diner. Because it’s near 59. But do you know where they have another one? Off of I-10! What’s more arbitrary than that??? No longer does the 59 mean anything! It’s just a random number they’ve assigned to these diners! I love random numbers assigned to things!!! +28!! I think subliminally I must have gotten the idea for my famous restaurant review blog arbitrary criticism dot com from this fantastic restaurant chain! Thank you for everything 59 Diner!

Go to 59 Diner, my flock! Go there and order your breakfast for dinner and do not be afraid to cry in public, I promise you it will work out for the best! You are in good company!