After acting like moderately civilized humans during the 45-minute tour of Nemacolin Castle, Corey and I were cracking up at the motherfucking wind blowing. I knew that the evening was about to spiral down a giggle hole when we sat in Janna’s car and I read Yelp reviews for local Brownsville establishments that weren’t meant to be funny but were giving us gelastic seizures. We had our heart set on the Chuckwagon because it had wood-paneled walls and looked like the sort of place where the townies would congregate, but they were closed, along with what seemed like every damn restaurant in Brownsville. Then Janna remembered some place she had eaten before near California, PA, which was nearby. She said it was on a hill and overlooked the shitty river, so Corey and I decided that this was the place we were meant to be, and Janna blindly got us there with only one incident.
“How do you know about this place?” I asked suspiciously as the car crunched to a stop in the near-empty lot.
“I don’t know,” Janna shrugged. “I used to be friends with someone who lived out this way and we ate here once.”
I DO NOT EVER REMEMBER HEARING ABOUT THIS PART OF JANNA’S LIFE. So I decided that Janna had a secret life in which she sold drugs in California, PA and then Corey and I cracked up at the thought of Janna rolling around with a beeper. Janna just frowned and didn’t seem to find this funny, probably because it was so close to the truth.
It’s amazing she didn’t push us over this cliff.
We walked into the Highpoint and immediately felt like outlanders. There was one table occupied by two old women, slurping their soup and eying us curiously over top of their spoons. One or two men sat at the bar, and a miserable, middle-aged waitress came over and sat us at a table in the corner. I did not get positive vibes from her and hated Janna for bringing us here. Luckily, though, we had a different, younger, friendlier waitress.
When we all ordered coffee, she smiled and said, “It’s a coffee kind of night.”
Corey waited for her to walk away before spewing laughter. And then I caught the giggle bug, so we sat across from each cracking up at a statement that wasn’t meant to be funny, while Janna continued to scrutinize the menu. After she brought our coffee, I decided that a picture of them was in order, but I waited too long and the waitress was walking back to our table. I panicked and took the picture in haste, not realizing until the last second that the stupid flash was on, so our entire table was illuminated just in time for her to take our order. It was pretty embarrassing, because I totally looked like some douchebag food blogger who was making mental notes to deduct half a star for differing coffee levels in the cups.
I used this picture when I checked in on Facebook, and Corey kept going back to look at it, getting angrier and more disgusted each time.
“I just hate this picture so much,” he said about 30 minutes later, totally changing the subject when Janna was telling us some serious story about her job. “You didn’t even move the straw wrappers!”
“I’M SORRY, BUT I WAS RUSHED!” I cried defensively. I mean, I’m sorry, but I think we all know I can style a fucking Instagram photo of coffee mugs. This wasn’t my best effort! I regret it! If I could have a do-over, I would turn the flash off and clear the fucking table, maybe add a Polaroid frame and some heart bokeh, OK?!
Picture of the loo for Alyson.
There was some mystery birthday party going on in a separate dining room and I made Janna go and peek through the door. She said it looked boring, and that people were just kind of walking around and talking to each other. How can I be sure she really did peek in though? THAT’S THE THING. One of the party-goers was an older broad wearing the skankiest boots this side of the Bunny Ranch and I blatantly tried to take her picture before she disappeared into the mysterious dining room.
“Oh god, you didn’t even TRY to hide what you were doing,” Corey gasped. I really didn’t, either. It was almost as though I was drunk, but the last time I checked, my coffee was free of Bailey’s. The picture was blurry anyway, so I guess that’s what I get for being an obvious dickhead.
I ordered from the kids menu, because GRILLED PB&J. The waitress said she didn’t blame me one bit because it’s delicious as fuck. And then sometime after our food was served, I started to choke on this damn sandwich because Corey and I both succumbed to full body mirth-convulsions. I literally had to hold my breath at one point, because every time I laughed, a fat wad of masticated sandwich lodged itself deeper in my throat. I honest to god thought it was about to be a really bad situation, but then I managed to work it back up into my mouth until the laughter subsided. I was turned away from the table and hunched over, my whole face buried in my hands, tears running down my face, while Corey’s bombastic laugh echoed around the near-empty bar and the old women at the next table were probably gawking at us, I’m sure, but luckily Janna was blocking my view of them so I’ll never have to know how disappointed they were in Corey’s and my restaurant etiquette.
Janna just kept eating her dinner like nothing was going on, by the way.
“Janna, you should guest post on my blog,” I suggested.
“No, that’s OK,” she mumbled.
“You can write about what it’s like to hang out with me and Corey!” I cried happily, and then Corey made the restaurant jump with his loud outburst of laughter. Janna sighed.
After dinner, we made Janna drive us through a small cemetery. It was OK.
But the real climax of the night was when Janna needed a nickel at the toll booth and we just lost our fucking minds over it and started Instavid’ing her and taking pictures and she started laughing too after the toll was adequately paid, but she seemed to not really understand what was so funny. I bet she was doing that “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” tactic.
“What made us almost choke on our dinner, anyway?” I mused out loud after we had settled down somewhat.
Corey and Janna said they couldn’t remember and then about an hour it came to me, so I texted Corey: “It was because Janna was talking and I called her an idiot!” and then I started cracking up all over again, except by this point, I was home and Henry was glaring at me.
Oh. My. God. I need a grilled pb&j in my life. Stat.
I like that fancy table in the bathroom.
“I panicked and took the picture in haste, not realizing until the last second that the stupid flash was on, so our entire table was illuminated just in time for her to take our order.
I would turn the flash off and clear the fucking table, maybe add a Polaroid frame and some heart bokeh, OK?!
I was turned away from the table and hunched over, my whole face buried in my hands, tears running down my face, while Corey’s bombastic laugh echoed around the near-empty bar and the old women at the next table were probably gawking at us, I’m sure, but luckily Janna was blocking my view of them so I’ll never have to know how disappointed they were in Corey’s and my restaurant etiquette.
Janna just kept eating her dinner like nothing was going on, by the way.”
And this, THIS is why I need to visit you again and this time go to some random restaurant with you and Corey. So I won’t be alone in my laughing fits!! I lose it every time you do.
THANK YOU FOR THE LOO PHOTO! I particularly like the scary vent on the wall, and the gravity-defying pipe in the toilet. It reminds me of some roller coasters we have ridden together. Nicely done.
“You didn’t even move the straw wrappers!” Best line!