Carrollton Town Square Diner, Alabama

I packed up and left Pickensville, heading west, then south, toward North Graysport, Mississippi.

The sky was warning of storms to come but the clouds were still high when I spotted this diner in Carollton as I rolled through the tiny town. I enjoy supporting local businesses so decided to stop for breakfast.  I mean,  there’s been so few cafes open in the mornings on this trip I felt it was my duty to support one.

I drove around the block until I found a place to park in an empty lot by the courthouse.  Walked on back, waving at the Sheriff who sat in his cruiser eyeballing me.  He waved back.

I entered the diner in time to hear the cook shout out, “We outta grits. We outta biscuits. We outta cornbread and applesauce.  We still got bacon.”

There weren’t many people in the place but they all checked me out. I smiled. They smiled back. I was okay.

I sat down and the server said, “If’n you want coffee we only got one cup left in the pot.”

“I’ll take it,” I said. “I’m a one cup girl.”

She bustled off while I studied the menu.

Big on meat. Out of the stuff I might have ordered.

She came back with my coffee. “Do ya know what ya want?”

“I’ll just have scrambled eggs and toast. That’s plenty.”

“You want tots with that?  The breakfast special comes with taters.”

“Oh.  Well, yeah, I’ll have the tots. Thank you.”

She went away.  I tasted my coffee. Weak and bitter. Worst coffee I’ve had in a long, long  time. Maybe ever.

A couple of men in camo-fatigues came in. Hunters. They knew what they wanted, called it out to the cook before they even sat down.

A young couple in front of me asked the server over. Seems that there was something wrong with his pancakes. The server apologized, took his plate, told him she’d be back and they’d get it right this time.

I checked my emails to fill time.  The server brought the hunters their meals.  She brought the right pancakes back to the man. I smiled. Drank my water. Looked hopeful.

A second server I hadn’t realized was a server (she was sitting on a stool chatting with one of the customers), asked the first server, “What happened to that woman’s breakfast?”

“I think I got it,” one of the hunters said. “I ordered the omelet but got scrambled with tots. I was so hungry I just started eatin’ it.”

I heard the cook say to the server, “Well, now I got this omelet. Comin’ right up. What I sposed to do with it?”

I spoke up, “I’ll take it. That’s fine. I don’t want you to waste any food.”

“You sure, honey?”

“I’m sure. Yeah, it’s fine. I’m hungry. I’m easy. I’ll eat it.”

The hunter said, “I’m real sorry, Ma’am.  I probly should have told her, but I just dug in without thinking.”

“Well, we can consider ourselves switched breakfast friends,” I said.

Studied my food.

The plate she placed before me held a thin egg wafer with filling, floating in grease. Next to it sat two, limp, equally greasy pieces of bacon. I pulled a piece of egg off with my fork. Inside, chunks of ham and bacon.  Nothing else.

I continued to pull the egg away from the filling, ate most of it. Left what ended up being a very generous pile of cooked pig on my plate.

The woman half of the couple with the wrong pancake met my eyes. Smiled big. I smiled back. She was young, pretty, with bright red lips.

I stood up. Went to the counter to pay.

The cook showed up, handed me my check. Items were priced separately.  Eggs. Tots. Coffee. Toast.

“I never got the tots or toast,” I said, politely as I could.

“Oh, that’s right. You had the omelet.”

“I only ate the egg from the omelet. I didn’t really want the meat.”

“But you had the omelet…”she began.

The hunter said, “I’ll pay for the omelet. That’s alright. I’m the one ordered it.”

“I should have given you all that meat,” I said to him. “I hate to see it go to waste.”

“That’ll be $6.63,” interrupted the cook, sour.

I handed her a ten.

“You guys duck hunting?” I asked the hunters.

“Turkey,” said the man who ate my breakfast. “But you might call us compassionate hunters.”

His friend laughed, “Yeah. We so compassionate, we just watch with kind hearts as they get away from us.”

I laughed, “Well, it’s really just about the experience, right?”

“It is, Ma’am. It surely is.”

Which is precisely what I think about my breakfast at the Carrollton Town Square Diner.