Don’t get me started on waitress stories! Restaurants, as June says, are passionate places, full of unpredictability and eccentricity. And they are full of stories. I’ll just tell you one. . . .
One night when I was working I had a customer who was eating alone, a handsome fellow, and, as he ate his meal — a good meal: grilled salmon and wine — he was writing on a pad of paper. I always wanted to know what my customers were up to, and pretty soon I could see that, among other things, he’d written the name of a friend of mine. I had to admit to him that I was a nosey waitress, and I asked why he’d written my friend’s name. The customer was Kevin Krajick, a writer, and he’d come here to the Oregon coast from New York to work on an article about the forest. He was looking for a man named Chuck Willer, because he hoped to interview him. Chuck was an environmentalist. “Oh,” I told him, “I can get you an interview with Chuck. He’s my husband.”