Ed Debevic's

On Tuesday evenings after work, I sometimes find myself in River North checking out acting seminars.  Such was the case last week.  I got there quite a bit early an had some time to kill, and it was gorgeous outside, so I took a walk around the block and came across Ed Debevic’s diner, which I’d heard of before, but couldn’t remember where.

In retrospect, it had probably been the butt of a joke because Ed’s turned out to be nothing more than an overpriced, tackier version of Steak n’ Shake for tourists and little kids.  Perhaps it was cool when it opened 30 years ago and nostalgia for retro-looking diners hadn’t quite set in yet.  The one “unique” bit of kitsch I overheard was the servers giving patrons attitude:

To a man with sunglasses on his head:  “Yo, Shades!  Did you want the special barbeque burger or the regular one?”
To a little girl:  “And what do YOU want, princess?”
To her brother who wouldn’t stop jabbering:  “You.  Stop talking to me.”

A few years ago, this would’ve lost me my job at Outback.  Here, it’s apparently part of the job description -- except the guy who served me at the counter/bar acted perfectly normal, almost bland.  I was disappointed.  I expected sarcasm with my $10 cheeseburger, dammit!  But I finished my dinner, paid the bill and asked where the restroom was.

“Uh, yeah.  See the big pink neon sign with the arrow?”

Sure enough, there it was hanging right over my head.  So much for distinguishing myself from the tourists.  The men’s door was closed, and so the sign on it was completely visible.  The women’s door, however, was propped open so that you had to stick your head around the corner and in the doorway to see the sign.  Which is what I was doing when this middle-aged man strides right past me, right into the ladies room, nose in his mobile device.  (The possibility that he might’ve have been a pre-op transgendered person never occurred to me.  He didn't really look it, but then again, I don't have much experience recognizing such things.)

He stops in front of the sink and continues tapping into his phone or tablet or whatever communication device he has in his hands.  He glances up every few seconds or so.  I just stand by the door, waiting for him to finish and get out, because I think he’s a building inspector.  Yes, there are several stalls and I’ve peed within an earshot of a dude many a time before, but I want to give this guy space to do his job, savvy?  He continues glancing around sporadically while thumb-typing on his device.  This continues for about a minute or two until he puts the device away, looks around in earnest, notices me waiting and says:

“Were you . . . is this . . . holy S#*!, I’m in the wrong bathroom!  I was trying to finish a text message and I couldn’t figure out why it looked so strange in here!”

I laugh a little and tell him it’s no big deal, he scurries out, and I go in to complete my business.

Epilogue:  As I’m washing my hands, I look up and there over the mirror is a sign that says:  “You’re too good for him.”

(Although I didn't really agree with this sentiment, a few of my friends will understand why the timing of this amused me.  I admittedly do tend to be a sour-grapes type of person.)

But I wonder what that guy thought when he looked up and saw that.  J