The Vibe -TS-C9-

I spent the early part of my nineteenth birthday with my mother in Nashville. We saw a David Sedaris play. I had a feeling something was in the works for an after party, mother not invited, after I got a phone call asking what I was doing at ten o'clock. Surpassing my expectations, when I returned to my apartment, a candlelit black tie party was starting in my honor. Friends are awesome. I put on my Steak & Shake uniform, including bow tie, because it was by far the most dignified set of clothes I owned. Martinis were made out of straight gin and grenadine. I was hugged and congratulated on my chronological accomplishment. People I did not know mingled and chortled throughout the evening. It was a fantastic and four star mockery of adulthood.

After the crowds dissipated and the alcohol expired, the coffee boys hatched a plan. "Plan" might be a bit of an overstatement. We decided to go to Steak & Shake, Dan promising he was ok to drive, a statement no sober person would believe. We stole a sign striking our fancy from the neighbor that said something along the lines of, "Nailing signs to trees kills trees." It amused us so we took it and departed. I don't especially remember the drive there, but I do remember the phone call from Mac who was left behind. I abandoned the party thrown for me, and I should be ashamed was the gist.

Mac was upset that we didn't invite him. He wished he was there for me throwing myself down flights of stairs and the sign theft. Of course Mac didn't express those feelings, I don't know if he recognized them, but ultimately he was mad he wasn't included. Steak & Shake and the hours spent there were nothing special except for the air of community surrounding them. For a bunch of weirdos and high school failures, the diner was the place we went to feel special. We smoked our cigarettes and made our jokes safely inside the bubble protecting us from the powers and peoples that told us how much we were screwing our lives.

Something hung in the air with the smoke at Steak & Shake. Maybe it was the youthful rebellion and stupidity manifest in every mohawk or nervous teenager buying his date a Berry Berry Cobbler. Perhaps the joy of Steak & Shake came from its late night nature. "This is where we gather when you tell us to sleep," could easily have been its motto after 10 pm. The nurturing environment was open to anyone at all hours, so it might be its suicide-hotline nature that made everyone inside feel warm and fuzzy. I don't know for sure where it stemmed from, but inside of Steak & Shake there was a vibe as thick as the milkshakes.

Similarly, the night of my birthday, the restaurant was as packed as the vibe. Every table was occupied and a line extended outside the door. My memory is an out of body experience. I can see myself sitting on a chair inside the restaurant, near the door. Julie approached me and wished a happy birthday. I think there was a hug. My head lolled and my eyes probably understood the dining room with motion-blurred disregard, but all I can recall is the crisp vision of a restaurant in high business struggling to survive. Julie and the other servers scurried and worried to satisfy the demands of their tables. This was one of those nights where as integral as the coffee boys were to the Steak & Shake experience, we couldn't be recognized as the dignitaries we were.

The night continued to bustle, and as we waited,  still from an out of body perspective, waitresses came by to bid us welcome and complain about the high volume business the restaurant was receiving. Several joked and asked if I wanted to get on the clock. Stovall made it by to wish a happy birthday with some insult. Here we were more than the average chili-seeking drunk. Steak & Shake was the family we wished for but did not need. At Steak & Shake no one pestered us about homework or drunken indiscretions. I can only speak for myself, but I can hypothesize for everyone. The third shift crowd, outside of the rushes, were crowds of regulars that reeked of a disapproving home life. Bondage pants and boasts of sexual prowess told their real stories in subtext.

Steak & Shake was a rehab center for those told they were wrong.