November 21, 2014

I am still processing this occurrence.

More later about why I was in Knoxville, Tennessee, but for now, just accept that I was. And accept also that I wanted biscuits and gravy around 8am EST, at a diner—an "original" diner, not a strip mall knock-off. Now that I've been magically transported to said diner, know that I ordered and consumed my biscuits and gravy in the splendor of overhead fluorescent lighting, tacky shit on the wall, and if grades were given out like they are in the wacky state of California, ten to one, there would have been a little note on the door letting me know, I could eat at my own risk. Nonetheless, I am alive and I'm not complaining about the food. Or the kitchen floor. The owners were nice, and I was nice back. That counts for something.

So now that we've established the location and my pleasant rapport with the owners, I will proceed.

I ate at a diner, paid, tipped, and asked the owner if I could take some photographs. He said yes. On my way out, in the foyer, I was trying to shoot the claw machine. It sounds cheesy but that's not the point. An old man came out and started yelling at me, telling me that my camera was scaring away all the other old men and they didn't want any part of that facebook stuff. (Yes, earlier, I had aimed my camera in the general direction of the table of old men, but no faces were visible, only their backs). He ranted and yelled for me get out. He yelled at me about 3 or four times and each time I calmly said was just shooting the claw machine and didn't mean to offend anyone. He kept yelling at me and then asked me if I wanted him to go tell Sam, like I was going to get a whooping or something. I told him if Sam was the owner, I had already asked Sam and it was cool by Sam. He yelled again for me to get out and I asked if he was kidding, because at this point, I was in disbelief. I was shooting the claw machine. Oh, and during breakfast when I looked over at the table of old men, one of them was making a lewd tongue gesture to the young cashier. That was my Friday morning and I still never nailed the exposure of the claw machine.

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