The muffin incident
Sunday, Jan 23rd, 2011There is a story which will be retold for generations to come in my family. My cousin and I, being the chief witnesses, shall forever remember it as “the muffin incident.”
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Breaking routine from boring suburban monotony, our plan was to drive to Riverdale in the Bronx and take a train there to Manhattan.
In Riverdale we stopped for lunch at the cleverly named “Riverdale Diner.” It was your typical New York diner: chrome covered and on the corner of a busy street. Unreasonably priced but understandably so considering it was not far from the city. The place was full of Mexican workers and hungry gringos.
I ordered something reasonable like a burger and fries. My cousin: the same. Neither of us expected what my older brother, Brian, would order when it came his turn.
“And what would you like to order?” said our Latino waitress, addressing Brian directly.
Brian looked up at the waitress. Pause. Back down at the menu. Pause. Back up at the waitress. Pause.
“I’ll have … a muffin please,” Brian said.
And that sent my cousin and I speeding down the rails of a laughter crazy-train. It was no ordinary laughter, mind you. It was muffin-grade laughter.
For a moment every facet, every reasoning, every conception of reality blurred except for three small details: diner, noontime, and muffin.
And that was the muffin incident.
One Response to “The muffin incident”
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A glowy picture of my dog
A glowy picture of my other dog
so strange… the other day this popped into my head and i hadn’t read the post. you forgot though i also ordered a coffee.