AI image used to illustrate this story by Frank Rocco Satullo
If the four of us didn’t affirm what happened, I wouldn’t have believed my own eyes and ears.
My dad had us up at the crack of dawn and into the family van with no breakfast to put some pavement between us and our last stop on a cross-country trip. By mid-morning, we grew hungry – really hungry – so Dad decided we would find a restaurant to enjoy a nice sit-down breakfast.
It was in no-man’s land out west. No exits. No signs. Just growling stomachs.
Finally, a sign that simply read, “Diner Next Exit.”
Suddenly, we all came to life in anticipation. Dad must have been just as hungry because our speed increased.
The next exit was desolate. There was absolutely nothing but raw land as far as the eye could see, except a little battered sign that said, “Diner” and had an arrow.
Every now and then, my Mom and Dad took turns saying, We need to turn around, or, This is too far, but each time there was a little sign that read Diner accompanied by an arrow.
“If we don’t see it in the next…”
“There it is!”
We were cruising down the empty country road so fast we nearly blew by the lone brick-and-mortar.
On the opposite side was a gravel and dirt parking lot. We were puzzled by how many cars were in it.
“Where did all these people come from?”
After all, the road ahead seemed as lifeless as the road behind.
“It’s Sunday around the time church lets out. Maybe this is the church crowd,” my mom reasoned.
We parked. I had a skip in my step, excited at the thought of the whopping stack of pancakes I was going to order after my dad said, “No limit, get whatever you want, and as much as you can eat.”
I think he felt guilty about starving us just to make good time, which was out the window by now.
As we passed the front windows of the restaurant, we could hear the chattering of voices and clanking of silverware on plates. It was a full house.
A young lady met us at the door and immediately led us to a table, not a booth, in the middle of the restaurant. As we walked to our table, the place curiously grew quieter and quieter. We sat and were told the waitress would be with us in a moment.
It was a long moment.
In that time, the four of us grew quiet as well. It felt like people were staring at us. I looked around. They were. If a fork fell to a plate now, the noise would pierce the deafening silence. My eyes searched for comfort and protection. They locked on Mom and Dad’s eyes, as did my sister’s.
They had a blank gaze.
The waitress still didn’t come. The full restaurant still didn’t make a sound. Nobody so much as ate. They just watched us in silence.
My heart raced. My skin crawled.
“Leave – Now,” Dad said under his breath, but we all heard it loud and clear.
Dad got up, and so did we. All of our heads were down as we whisked out the door.
When we hit the sidewalk along the front windows, the inside of the restaurant sounded as it had on approach. Voices chattered in conversation, dishes clanked, and everything was normal.
The car doors slammed, boom—boom—boom—boom!
“What the heck just happened?”
The ignition fired the engine, and we sped away in a cloud of dust.
None of us could reason an answer.
Once we reached the highway again, we breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Then, we laughed out the anxiety in a powerful way, albeit uncomfortably.
Dad continued to drive like a bat out of hell.
Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was hunger.
All I know is I wasn’t hungry anymore.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun!
