The menu offers a good range of choices, most of them bearing a family resemblance to the hot beef sandwich with potatoes and gravy I order. It’s plain fare served by thirty- and forty-year-old waitresses in black Levi’s and pink or blue T&A Café T-shirts.
A big piece of warm lemon meringue pie follows the sandwich and potatoes. I want to ask the waitress who brings it about you, but ask instead about the chain hanging on the wall, the one with a steel hoop on one end and what looks like a nasty harpoon on the other.
I’ll tell you in a minute, she says. She takes an order, pours some coffee, talks with another waitress. I’ll tell you what that is, she says when she finally returns, but I’m not happy about it. It’s a bull cinch. You hang the one end over a fence post and stick the other end up the bull’s ass. It’s a cinch he won’t get away. The boss says we have to tell the story if anyone asks. And then she’s gone.
“Love gets its name (amor) from the word for hook (amus) which means to capture or to be captured.” (Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love)
[from Immortal for Quite Some Time]