So over the weekend I went to this restaurant called Eggheads in
where I have breakfast sometimes. Eggheads has a Wizard of Oz theme, even though the name “Eggheads” has nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. The pictures and memorabilia on the walls are related to the movie, and everything on the menu is named for something in the film. I don’t know why. Fort Bragg
The story I heard was that when it opened back in 1976, it was owned and operated by a couple of gay gentlemen who had a thing for rainbows and Judy Garland - but not, apparently, for tasteful interior design. Which makes me believe that the story isn’t true. Because a true story would have been more consistent in its use of gay stereotypes.
The place is pretty cozy, though, and there’s a strong local vibe, leaning on weird. And the food is really good despite the fact that the menu items are called things like the “Flying Monkey” sandwich or the “Dorothy’s Revenge” special. Um, special, how, exactly?
So like I said, I was sitting there this weekend at the front window table with a view of main street, minding my own business, reading the paper. Yes, the paper. As in, the newspaper. Some of us still cling to the old traditions.
Anyhoo, the waitress comes up to me and holds a napkin up for me to see. It has ‘Quiznos’ written on it. "You're wanted on the phone," she says, waving the napkin at me.
"My name isn't Quiznos," I said. "I think that's a sandwich place."
"No, no!" she insists. "There's a man on the phone right now who says that there's a pretty, dark-haired woman sitting at the window table, and that I should give her a note that says 'Quiznos' on it because then she'd know exactly who was on the phone for her."
"You should tell him there's not even a Quiznos here in town..."
"You're missing the point. The guy on the phone means YOU. YOU'RE the pretty, dark-haired woman. Or maybe I'm missing the point. You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No. But it's nice that you think I'm pretty."
Excellent randomness... Although I was hoping that maybe I was the innocent bystander about to be swept into a world of car chases, double-agents, doomsday devices, and evil geniuses. Oh, well. There’s always next weekend.