Place scene for extra credit… The National Mechanic is a restaurant in Philly you should go to it it’s awesome! First are two descriptions and then the scene.
The white old post office building glowed on against a dark night sky. The oak front doors were propped open and a sign announcing the specials sat propped against the edge for everyone that passed by to see. Inside the small restaurant was lit with dim lights that were fastened to the ceiling and Christmas lights randomly placed around the room. Some lights were placed inside candle cases while others could be found on dog statues replacing their noses and coming out their butts. On the right side of the room old fashioned tables and benches lined the wall. Windows lined the wall next to the tables for guests to peer out of. On the left side of the room a wooden bar took up half the wall, a large supply of alcohol was placed in glass cabinets behind it. In the center of the room tall tables and chairs, similar to the ones found at Friday’s or Applebees, were spread out. A door led out of the room on the back wall, where tables and benches that matched the ones on the right side of the room also sat. It was covered with a green velvet curtain and lead to the kitchen where only workers were permitted. The restaurant gave off a relaxed but fun vibe.
The waitress stood behind the bar, leaning across the bar top. Her hair was short, obviously dyed bleach blonde and black on the bottom. Her height matched her hair, short, her skin pale as a sheet. She wore a magenta shirt with The National Mechanic written in big black letters on the front. A small black apron was tied around her waist which only revealed the bottom portion of her short, tight black skirt, matching the black Vans she wore on her feet. Her septum and ears were pierced. Her ears were pierced all the way around. The one unique part about her outfit was the necklace she wore, which was a pair of little handcuffs.
A young man slid onto a bar stool in front of the young waitress. The waitress grabbed a shot glass from under the bar and a bottle of Captain Morgan from the cabinet behind her.
Pouring the Captain into the shot glass, she asked, “How ya’ doin’ Mac?”
Mac picked up the glass and downed the drink before replying. “Doing alright. How ‘bout yourself? Been keeping outta trouble?”
She smiled, “You know it.” Looking back out at the restaurant she noticed a couple at a table on the opposite side of the room looking a little frightened. She pointed them out to Mac. “It looks like they got lost.”
He turned around in the stool just enough to see the couple without them noticing him. “Maybe they were passing by and saw that delicious special menu out there.”
“Ha, very funny.” Slipping around the bar, the waitress walked over to the table. “Welcome to the National Mechanic. My name is Tiffany and I’ll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order or just drinks for now?”
The middle aged couple looked out of place. Tiffany saw this often. A couple would come in expecting to be in another version of Applebees, but when they saw all the staff dressed in grunge and pierced and tattooed from head to foot they realized the mistake they made but would be too polite to leave.
“Just two waters for now, please,” the gentleman answered.
“Comin’ right up.” Striding over to the green velvet curtain, Tiffany went into the kitchen to grab the waters, and to announce to the staff about their guests. “Guys keep alive. Two yuppies just came in.”
“What’d they order?” asked Steve the bus boy.
“They’re from Jersey,” commented another waiter named Patrick.
“How do you know?” Tiffany asked as she hopped onto the metal prepping table.
“It’s always the one’s from Jersey who order water.”
Steve placed two glasses of water next to Tiffany, so she slipped off the prep table, grabbed the glasses and went back out to the table. Heading back over to the bar she took her place back in front of Mac, who had polished off the Captain.
“You payin’ for that right?” Mac nodded. Tiffany stared back at the couple and watched them sip their water cautiously. “They’re from Jersey.”
Mac turned around in his stool. He was so drunk that he almost fell off but he caught himself in time.
“Hey! Hey, you!” Mac yelled at the couple. They looked over at them, obvious fear on their faces. “Yeah you heard me! Why don’t you go back over the bridge where you came from?” The couple slowly rose from the bench and made their way to the front door. Mac jumped up from the bar stool. “Yeah that’s right! Run!” He chased after them, yelling obscenities. Tiffany rubbed her face. Note to self, she thought, Mac, alcohol, and Jersey yuppies do not mix.