I’m laughing because I’m a Frisch’s, an inexpensive family restaurant, and I’m eating at the counter, not a table or booth.
A woman and her granddaughter, she’s maybe 10, walked in and sat next to me at the counter. Judging from her fur coat, clothes, hairstyle, jewelry, and designer bag, she’s not used to dining amongst the rabble. She gingerly sat down, sniffed around, and muttered, “Well, at least it’s reasonably clean…”
I’m fighting the urge to engage her in some banter: “Sew where is yew all from? Yew look like one o’ them city folk I done heard tell about! Kin I touch yer hair? It’s sew purdy!”