Guest Post by Lauren Volper I started my service career at sixteen years old. Seventeen years later, and I have since managed to spill coca-cola on Sigourney Weaver at a diner in Poughkeepsie, New York, serve wine to E-40 at a bar in the Oakland airport, and shake a martini

Irving Street Cafe I have a fondness for diners, especially ones situated in working/middle class neighborhoods with a self-contained quality.  These diners aren’t self-consciously retro or ironic, they just ARE.  I’ve previously made mention of a few diners here among the cyber-folds of Broke-Ass Stuart’s Goddamn Website (Art’s Cafe and