THE INVISIBLE LADY AT THE MISS PORTLAND DINER
I was meeting a friend at the Portland Diner the other day and was late.
I didn’t see her in the new addition, so stepped up to the original diner and glanced around to see if she was there yet. A waitress swooped down the aisle from the opposite direction. I told her I was looking for a friend.
She said, oh yes, she's right here and pointed to the booth to my right.
An old guy sitting on a stool hunched over a big piece of pie at the deserted counter across the aisle looked over his left shoulder at the booth at about the same time I did.
“Well, if she’s sitting there, she’s invisible,” he rasped turning back to his pie.
He was right - all I saw was a cup of steaming coffee.
The waitress quickly added that my friend was currently in the ladies room. She never cracked a smile and asked if I wanted some coffee.
I replied no thank you and fell into the booth trying to contain hysterical laughter in my cupped hands, afraid someone might think I was a head case.
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