Moe?s Caf銉A funny thing happened to me one day that I will never forget. I was on my way to a meeting in Santa Barbara, California. When I was driving through Bakersfield, I noticed that the front of my car began smoking. Luckily I made it to a deserted gas station. While I was waiting for my car to be repaired, the gas station owner gave me the idea to get a bite to eat at a near by diner. I figured it would be better then sitting at the station for hours so started walking down the dusty road to the tiny, beat up diner. As I rounded the corner, I saw what the owner of the gas station had described to me as ?the best place in town!? The rusty trailer seemed to be slowing tilting towards the left and, by the size of, it I guessed it must have been barely visible from a hot air balloon. The door hinges seemed to squeal bloody murder as I opened the door. When I stepped inside I was reminded of a horror movie. Being stranded with an eerie man drinking a beer and that is watching you seems to start off many scary tales.
The intense light from the sun from was streaming through a small window into the dark room, revealing the dust living in the air. I stepped onto the black and white tiled floors. They resembled an aged checkers board. The walls were covered with photos of movie stars, posters of movies, and other celebrities. None of the pictures happened to be autographed. I guess this wasn?t a five star restaurant. The jukebox in the grimy corner was playing eighties music and the small TV hanging above it looked like it had been through a fight. The screen had two large cracks protruding down the center, and the spiders had made a nice home for themselves from its antenna to the clock on the wall behind it.

I slid into my booth that was red and white striped. The cushion on the other side of the booth had a gash in it, showing the moldy stuffing on its insides. As I waited to be served, I let my nose help my stomach find what it wanted. The man at the bar was half way through his pack of Camel cigarettes and he reeked of bitter beer. Because of my position in the restaurant, I got a bad wave of air the flowed from the bathroom directly to my nostrils. The main thing pushing at my sense of smell was the scent of grease and fast food. I was remembering why I don?t eat at diners more often when Blanche, the waitress, gave me another reason.

She came sluggishly towards me. Her name tag, that was falling apart, read a name I had never heard before. Blanche. She resembled a Romanian wrestler. Her broad shoulders, deep voice, and uni-brow gave her a manly look. In the dark whole where one of her front teeth once grew was a toothpick. Just above her lip was a dark brown mole that had three thick, brown hairs growing in it. Just as I had found the smell of sweet apple pie, the one good thing in that ramshackle dump, I caught a whiff of the most fowl smelling woman I had ever known. The wet stains under Blanche?s armpits indicated what it was I smelled. The smell was a combination of a boys? locker room, that hadn?t been cleaned in year, and a dead body that had been rotting for the same amount of time. I decided I didn?t want to risk anything by trying the food, and I ordered a diet coke.

While waiting for Blanche to return from the kitchen, I noticed the song on the jukebox had ended. I rummaged around in my purse and found a nickel. I decided I would continue to go with the theme of eighties songs that had been playing. After flipping through the CDs, I landed on one by Simple Minds. I chose the song Don?t You Forget About Me, which is the theme from The Breakfast Club. I remember listening to that song with my friends at a party. When I pressed the play button, the movie plot came flooding back into my head along the eighties clothes and hair. I started to return to my booth but wasn?t even half way there when I heard a woman at the counter start shrieking. She was hysterical. This peeked my curiosity, so I decided to check it out.

Asking her what was wrong, I got an answer I wasn?t prepared to sit and listen too. The woman started rambling on about how she dressed up as a group of her friends dressed up as the breakfast club for Halloween one year. She went into great detail about their costumes. The woman had dressed up as the princess from the movie. She explained to me how she was walking home from the party, singing the song I had just selected on the jukebox, when she was attacked. The woman was bawling uncontrollably. She said it was the most terrifying experience of her life. I asked the woman if she ever talked to the police or if she remembered anything. She told me a few details and that she did report it to the police, but they didn?t do much. She also said she recalled that she had punched her attacker in the mouth.
All the while, I noticed Blanche had never brought me my drink. I thought that was pretty strange, especially since the only people in the diner were the creepy guy at the counter, and woman crying, and myself. As the woman was recovering from her cry, the police busted down the door of the diner. The little rusty door came down easily. They asked where Blanche was. Confused, Moe said she was in looking for something in the freezer.

After the police caught Blanche, the police explained to me that Blanche had escaped from a mental institution a few months ago. They matched the DNA the woman at the counter had pulled off her attacker to Blanche. ?It?s a small world!? I thought. The craziness ended soon after and I returned to get my car. I knew this was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me. In the car ride home it occurred to me I never even got my diet coke.