Late Thursday night at Ziggie's

Ziggie's, Sunshine & Glenstone, 1:15 a.m. I had a craving for ice cream, and this was one of the only places I knew that would be open and would offer it. (The other, Steak & Shake, didn't appeal. I wanted a real sundae, not a shake.)

As the waitress, an older lady, led me to my table (with a plug-in; she saw my laptop bag), a fairly drunk young lady sort of rolled out of her booth and onto her back on the floor, almost in front of us. "I hate Thursday nights," my waitress confided to me. "I don't know what it is, if it's just that it's the first night the bars are open late or what. Friday and Saturday nights aren't this bad." Indeed, there seem to be quite a few well-lit, louder-than-average individuals in the diner at this hour.

I ordered a $3 chocolate sundae. "It's only two scoops now," the waitress warned me. I assured her it would be fine. When it came, it filled a soup bowl: two big scoops of ice cream, and plenty of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. (There was no cherry. I suppose one can't have everything.) I hope I'll be able to finish it. The ingredients aren't really what I would describe as gourmet, but there sure are a lot.

And so I'm sitting here typing, enjoying my sundae, listening to the louder than average conversations, watching the people who don't realize they're being obnoxiously loud being obnoxiously loud. One fairly large group of over a dozen has pushed several tables together just a few yards from me and are talking loudly maybe not so much from being drunk as from having to do so to be heard at the other end of their table.

So this is Thursday night at Ziggie's. Not exactly easy on the ears.

Late Thursday night at Ziggie's

Ziggie's, Sunshine & Glenstone, 1:15 a.m. I had a craving for ice cream, and this was one of the only places I knew that would be open and would offer it. (The other, Steak & Shake, didn't appeal. I wanted a real sundae, not a shake.)

As the waitress, an older lady, led me to my table (with a plug-in; she saw my laptop bag), a fairly drunk young lady sort of rolled out of her booth and onto her back on the floor, almost in front of us. "I hate Thursday nights," my waitress confided to me. "I don't know what it is, if it's just that it's the first night the bars are open late or what. Friday and Saturday nights aren't this bad." Indeed, there seem to be quite a few well-lit, louder-than-average individuals in the diner at this hour.

I ordered a $3 chocolate sundae. "It's only two scoops now," the waitress warned me. I assured her it would be fine. When it came, it filled a soup bowl: two big scoops of ice cream, and plenty of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. (There was no cherry. I suppose one can't have everything.) I hope I'll be able to finish it. The ingredients aren't really what I would describe as gourmet, but there sure are a lot.

And so I'm sitting here typing, enjoying my sundae, listening to the louder than average conversations, watching the people who don't realize they're being obnoxiously loud being obnoxiously loud. One fairly large group of over a dozen has pushed several tables together just a few yards from me and are talking loudly maybe not so much from being drunk as from having to do so to be heard at the other end of their table.

So this is Thursday night at Ziggie's. Not exactly easy on the ears.