With the farmers market in full swing across the street, the Saturday morning breakfast crowd is crazy busy, like always. We are a seat yourself diner with no real waiting area. Often people just hang out near tables waiting to pounce.
I had to stifle my laughter when Charlie nearly lost it at a middle-aged impatient gentleman. He was hovering too close to the table, right by the narrow entrance to the back dining room. Every time a server or customers had to use the entryway he’d back up closer to the occupied table. His butt was basically sitting on it. Charlie asked him to wait elsewhere twice before he finally moved. She then spent a good five minutes in the front section bitching about how she wouldn’t want someone’s a$$ on her table while she ate.
Sometimes I think Charlie, Maria
