Too
Late
EUGENE'S
LATE-NIGHT ACTION COMES UP SHORT.
BY
KARMAN RATLIFF
It's 3:36 am on a Sunday morning, and I am slouched
over in a tan plastic booth in the back of an all night diner. Staring
at my tepid appetizer combo, I retrace in my head the night's activities
that led me to this booth in Shari's Restaurant: I had ran out of
money to drink at the bar, then found myself at a house party. A
quick stop at a convenience store for more beer, then, suddenly,
I was here.
Frankly, it's unsurprising, because at this hour
in Eugene, there aren't a lot of better places to be. My options?
There's your run of the mill corporate diner, where at any hour
of the day you'll notice that every food item is mysteriously the
same color. Or I could head over to Dunkin' Donuts and discover
the secrets of the jelly donut. I could take myself down into the
underground world of porn stores, where it's safe to say no one
will look you in the eye (unless they're just there to buy nitrous
oxide whip-its). The strip clubs closed a half hour ago, but if
I make a mad dash, I bet I could still make it to Pita Pit before
it closes at 4 am.
Instead, here I am watching as an exhausted woman
with a monotone voice named Connie tops off my coffee mug, even
though I haven't touched it in at least ten minutes. I begin to
peel the breading off of my seasoned chicken finger and submerge
it in sauce, meanwhile striking up a conversation with the waitress.
"Have you had a busy night? What time do you get
to go home?" I ask.
"I get off at six."
She clearly has other things to be doing than talking
to me. At the next table, an entire family, baby in tow, devours
the last bits of their toast and French fries (all the same color)
acting as if it's perfectly normal for them to be sitting here at
this hour. I continue asking about the regular clientele at Shari's
at nearly four a.m.
Connie surrenders to me and stops moving momentarily,
staring at me as she explains that the majority of the late night
customers have but one common bond: drunkenness.
"What's the most exciting thing that has ever happened
to you while working?" I ask, hoping to ignite a spark of conversation.
"Well, I don't know," she replies impatiently. "Last
night we had two ladies sitting in different booths who ended up
throwing coffee at each other. That's about it."
I continue searching for nightlife until dawn approaches,
but only drunks and bums, cops and graffiti writers are awake at
this time. Defeated, I head home.