Chapter 36: Adventures at Eat N’ Park

While the athletes of the world united at the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympic Games, I was skiing in Seven Springs. While it may not be the greatest ski resort around, it can still make you quite hungry. With this is mind, we headed to the only place worth dining in at one in the morning, Eat N’ Park!!

As soon as I walked in I was glad I came. While there may be around 32,000 locations in the Pittsburgh area alone, you cannot help but feel at home. My friend Valerie from high school was working, and she was very happy that I came in. As soon as we sat down in a booth, she sat down with us and pointed out a large black man sitting in the corner.

Apparently he had been offering the waitresses $100 to drive him to the airport, claiming he was an undercover FBI agent. He opened a gym bag and flashed what he said was $14,000 to another waitress. To Valerie, he was a loud and scary guy that she didn’t want in her restaurant any more. The other employees agreed, and they called the cops as we were sitting there ordering our post-skiing spaghetti.

Around 15 minutes later the cops showed up. Brandon remarked that the same number of cops came as when he had thrown the ketchup packet at the SUV, and I reminded him that these cops came in only two cars, while in our case we drew in three. They went over and started to talk to the man, and everything seemed to be okay. We got our food, and the cops started to leave.

The waitress who had been flashed the money ran over to the cops and pulled one aside, saying in hushed words (I could only hear her because they were standing right next to us) that she didn’t have a good feeling about this and that she wanted them to kick him out. The cops reluctantly agreed, and wandered over to the man again.

I had a great view of the conversation, or shall I say argument. The man didn’t look like he wanted to leave, and the cops didn’t like it. Valerie told us that someone saw him dancing on the bridge over the turnpike, and that he was either high, drunk, or both. I heard a cop practically yell at him “Shut your face and give me the damn number!!” I don’t know what the number meant, but apparently it was important. The black guy stood up suddenly and put on his jacket, and with police escort walked out.

We finished our spaghetti, and other than Brandon being a bitch about actually being charged for his food (we did know the waitress after all), we left. As we walked out, Brandon turned to me and exclaimed “I want you to punch me as hard as you can.” One visit in our past we had a small fight club outside of an Eat N’ Park, and now every time we leave we joke about it. This time however I was glad I didn’t take the overwhelming urge to deck Branden, as when we walked out the door the cops hadn’t left and were staring right at us. We all had a good laugh and went home.

Valerie told me to come and visit her as often as I could. Good food, lazy cops, scary black guys, and oh-so friendly waitresses all make Eat N’ Park one of my favorite all time restaurants.






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