"Slice of Life" at Saratoga Diner

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
3/08/06

Editor's note: "Slice of Life" appears every third week in Arts Life, and looks at the atmosphere of a local diner.

Sunshine slanted through the windows of the Saratoga Diner on recent weekday morning, glinting off the thick glasses of a white-haired man enjoying a plate of Belgian waffles. A miniature white statue of a shirtless Venus watched him from the windowsill. An oxygen tank sat at his side, connected to his nose by a plastic tube.

He beckoned to a waitress who was moving around the large dining room with a glass coffee pot in each hand -- the orange-handled pot of decaffeinated brew was still mostly full, while the stronger stuff emptied quickly.

"Could I bother you for a refill, when you have a minute?" he asked.

She topped off his cup with regular, then hustled back to the kitchen with a weary half-smile on her face.

In one booth, a pretty young woman tucked her feet up on her seat and let her body relax against the wall, where images of flying horse hooves and the crowded stands of the local racetrack loomed above her in a colorful mural. She smiled at the young man seated across from her as he leaned over his coffee cup to tell her something.

A few feet away, a toddler giggled at his mother as he ducked his head beneath the edge of the checked plastic tablecloth. She gave an exasperated sigh, but smiled as she cut his French toast into tiny pieces.

Near the entrance, a neatly dressed young woman stood with a cellphone to her ear. When a sea of navy blue and white uniforms swept through the diner's doors at about 10 a.m., her face broke into a wide grin. One of the sailors threw his arms around her and swung her around in an embrace that lifted her feet off the flowered carpet for several seconds.

The waitresses pushed several tables together in the back of the dining room to make space for the group of sailors, which grew larger by the minute.

While the sailors scanned their menus, the mother and toddler got up to leave. The little boy's head swiveled to stare at the men in uniform, making him stumble as his mother guided him toward the door.

A waitress smiled as she watched them leave, then looked down at her hands, sighed, and returned to the kitchen.

The coffee pot was almost empty again.
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