Mike\'s Place Some of the Best Experiences

¶ … Mike's Place

Some of the best experiences I have ever had occur in a small diner downtown called Mike's Place. The diner is old and tiny but because it is what we call a hole in the wall, it is rarely busy. It sits between two other businesses on the street and, upon first glance, looks like nothing special and nowhere inviting. The words "Mike's Place" are painted in red and white letters on the glass above the door and they are very easy to miss. Mike's serves food items that many small downtown restaurants serve, including burgers, spicy fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cheese fries, huge rolls bathed in butter, and the best biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Mike's keeps short hours, meaning it is open for breakfast and lunch. Mike's is one of the most inspirational places I frequent because it has style and character.

My favorite thing to eat at Mike's is the biscuits and gravy. I know it must be one of the most fattening things I can have but nothing beats a plate of biscuits smothered in gravy. This is somehow better on days when I do not have to go to work. I can enjoy the food at a slow pace and with a glass of juice, I feel like all is right with the world. On the slow days, Mike does the cooking and the serving. Sometimes he sits at my table and tells me stories from his past. Some of the best ones involve past customers. He tells me Bill Clinton sat at my favorite table and ate a hamburger and fries one day before he was elected president. He even said that James Brown came in once and had some of his fried chicken. Mike is about 65 years old and his smile lights up the entire diner. His laughter is contagious and when he sings in the kitchen, it is one of the best things in the world to hear, even though the man cannot sing.

My favorite table at Mike's is at the front window. The window space is small and there is enough room for a table and a shelf of odd knickknacks. These knickknacks are not for sale and sometimes Mike changes them. They include pictures of his grandkids. Homemade globs of play dough made by his children, under which he has a piece of paper stating, Chrissy's dog or Jeffrey's lizard. These creatures are crusty and cracked but, nevertheless, works of art in Mike's eyes. Mike also rotates items customers leave behind, such as knit caps, gloves and a gold hoop earring. The view from the table is ideal for people watching and I can sit there all morning surfing the net drinking coffee. The table legs are uneven, which make the table rock and while this was an irritant, I have finally come to love this old table. Even the hard wooden chair is something I appreciate because there is nothing else like it.

Mike's smells greasy but, somehow, very good. The door handle is slippery and, when you open it, a strange aroma hits your face that can only be equated to a greasy kitchen. While this sounds offensive, it is a welcoming odor that is best on wintry days. The smell of grease combines with that of coffee brewing. While Mike's does not make latte or cappuccino drinks, the coffee is bold and refreshing. The cups are endless at Mike's and on long mornings when I do not have to go to work, my cup can last until the place closes down.

I see an amazing array of people from my table at Mike's. Directly across the street is a dime store and a laundromat. I watch people doing their laundry on most days. Some people carry their laundry in baskets while others use pillowcases and garbage bags. When it rains, the city changes and no one uses the laundromat. Against the grey sky and metal on the buildings, grey clouds blend in, creating a strange facade. Winter is dreary and Mike neglects the window next to where I sit in the winter. There is always a draft that runs against the side of my leg. I can hear a radio Mike plays in the kitchen and, occasionally, I hear the cash register running. Mike likes an old jazz station and sometimes he turns up one of Count Basie's tunes.