Yeah, you read that right.

Last Sunday Bart and I decided to go to the Fleetwood Diner in Lansing for ‘dinner’ after I got out of work at midnight. After having some less-than-cool experiences there the last 2 times (more on that later), we figured we were OK since it was Sunday night/Monday morning. There weren’t many people when we got there, we got a good table and were served quickly.

While waiting for our food to come up, a pair of late teens/early 20′s white males entered the diner, and one of them sat on the waiting bench next to our table, rather uncomfortably close to us. Bart and I tried to pretend the dude wasn’t there, and continued our conversation.  However, out of the corner of my eye I could tell he was staring at us, or at least at Bart, and then suddenly he spoke up – “Hey, you wanna arm wrestle?”

Bart politely but firmly declined.  This is when I turned and got my first (and only) good look at the kid’s face. He was scraggly, eyes bloodshot, and had a huge piercing through his nasal septum.  He was dirty and looked thoroughly wasted. The kid’s friend retrieved him and they sat at a table over in the smoking section next to the front door.

We got our food and started eating. More people came in. The waitresses were bustling about. Again, suddenly, dirty boy comes over and starts talking to us. The cook yells at him to get back over to the smoking section with his lit cigarette. Bart firmly tells him to go sit back down. After a minute of “What’s your problem, man?” “Go sit back at your table” he complies.

We finish our meal, and the waitress brings the bill. While we’re waiting for her to pick our money up, the kids (who have already paid I guess) get up and leave. Dirty boy has one of the diner’s cups in his hand, and the waitress starts to yell/chase after him. Just then, an object comes flying in our direction – some nasty piece of food lands *splat* on Bart’s left hand. We both look around, it seemed the object had come out of no-where just as the door was closing behind dirty boy and his friend.

The waitress chases them outside, and after a couple minutes comes back in, saying she got a license plate number and that they were going to call the cops and give it to them. Bart (after washing up) decides to wait for the police, since throwing an object at someone with the potential intent to do harm is technically felonious assault. Also, since it was pretty obvious the kid was high on *something*, if they went and picked him up it might keep something worse from happening in the future.

So we waited.. for probably over an hour. The cop finally shows up, and Bart shows him his ID and CCW permit.

“Do you have it on you?”

“Yes, its in my right pocket.”

“What is it?”

“Springfield 1911.”

Bart and the waitress recount their stories to the cop. He tells us that filing charges against the kid probably won’t do much good since the prosecutor would just throw them out.  Bart explains to the cop that if what happened at the diner gives them probable cause to investigate the kid, and they end up picking him up for something else, then that’s good enough.