Salty Waitresses: Al’s Grill, Oak Park
With our kitchen under construction, I went to grab a burger for lunch at Al’s Grill. If I’m eating alone at a diner, I can’t imagine sitting anywhere but the counter. For entertainment purposes only. I’d been there about a second when My Waitress (no name tags) came up to the guy sitting next to me, looks at her own water cup and then at him, and says, “You didn’t drink my water, did you? You don’t want to do that ‘cuz you don’t know where my mouth ‘is been.”
The Salty Waitress is a Great American Type.
All the waitress at Al’s are what my mom would call “normal looking” – not great beauties, and probably not one to generate cat-calls except from the randiest of construction crews, but nice and real and between the hours of 11:00 to 1:00, they’re on-stage and the center of much attention…at least my attention.
My Waitress to Cook: “Hey, Jose, where’s my hamburger? You leave it back in Mexico?” The cook seems to appreciate the reference, as do the guys sitting next to me, many of whom she seems to know.
Other Waitress to My Waitress (regarding a customer’s soup): “He got no meat in there. It’s all broth.”
My Waitress: “Jimmy likes it like that. He don’t eat meat.”
My Waitress glanced at me playfully several times. As I finish my burger, she says, “She’s a wimp,” referring to another waitress who just blew past with coffee.
“A wimp?” I query, wimpily.
“Yeah, I want to go to the haunted house at that prison in Joliet, you know, Sullivan. Twenty-five dollars to get in. She’s chicken to go with me.”
“Are there still prisoners, there?” I ask tentatively.
She looks at me and kindly answers, “No, it’s just spooky, you know?” but her look seems to say, “What kind of dumbf*ck are you?”
Al’s Grill
1100 Madison Street
Oak Park, IL 60302
"Don't you ever underestimate the power of a female." Bootsy Collins