denny's

I am not now, nor have I ever been, a wild man. I'm pretty much the opposite. This lack of adventure and excitement even applied to my college years. So, on many weekend nights, the highlight was when me and Mark would head to Denny's right around 2 a.m. to watch the migration of Fresno scumbags from the bars to Denny's. There were many highlights, but the highest being was when a black  busboy named Harold, sick of the antics and comments of some drunken hicks, whipped off his apron and challenged the rednecks to fight outside. Oh, Harold, if you only knew how highly me and Mark think of you even today. Wherever you are, you're a hero and inspiration. You my friend, were not fucking around.

Anyways, all this is preface to say that it does not surprise me in the least that this happened at Denny's.



Par for the course.