"In My Opinion . . ."
August 26, 2001
A hand-drawn "4 Sale" sign hung by the door of the greasy spoon. I wondered how long it had been there. Stale, cloying odors assaulted my nose as I entered the ramshackle restaurant on Highway 2. The mixture of stale beer, deep-fried greasy foods, and years of cigarette smoke nauseated me, but I continued in, knowing that I had 45 minutes to waste and nowhere to go. The only diner in the near-dead mountain town would have to do while I waited for Bill to bike down from Stevens Pass.
I sat in the dismal diner looking at dirt and crumbs on the ugly black and brown 60s-style carpet. Apparently Red Green had done the decorating: black duct tape covered nearly every bench seat, and when I was forced to use the bathroom I discovered that the theme continued throughout that room as well. Silver tape (a clever color change) stretched across the ceiling and walls, barely holding the smelly room together. Amazingly, the bathroom was a breath of fresh air compared to the restaurant. I reluctantly returned to my table.
I ordered lettuce (with vinegar) and ice tea--safe foods that wouldn't be greatly affected by the ever-present hideous odor. One more trip to the john convinced me that I would be better off sitting in the hot car waiting for my husband, so I paid and escaped quickly. Unfortunately, I couldn't escape the smell. All the way back to Seattle the stench haunted me, clinging to my hair and clothes like a cheap perfume. The minute I stepped into our house I tossed my clothes into the basement and stepped into the shower. Lavish amounts of lavender shampoo and Calvin Klein bath gel washed away any lingering odors, but I still get queasy just thinking about the place. To quote Bette Davis--"What a dump."