at Waffle House

"This place is so disgusting." Kathleen wrinkled her nose and grabbed a napkin to swat at some non-existent crumbs in the booth we'd snagged.
"But it's road trip food. We are on a road trip." Tod slid in next to her, put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Lighten up, K. Road trip! Austin! Concerts! There is no room in this booth for a gloomy face."
And you couldn't deny that Tod's face was far from gloomy. In fact, I looked around as we all looked at our greasy menus. We'd taken up two booths -- me, Kathleen, Tod and Phil; Grant, Maria, Pete, and John. Maria's arms were waiving around, her mouth moving at light-speed. Pete and John were shaking with laughter; John's head fell to the table, his back still convulsing. Grant just shook his head, obviously having heard the story already. Tod turned around to ask what the racket was all about. His left hand still rested on the menu sitting on the table, his long fingers tapping out a rhythm. Phil and Kathleen were talking, I think about a new CD they were listening to in the car. I looked down at my menu and saw that my hands were shaking slightly. Odd. But maybe appropriate given that I felt like I'd just missed getting run over by a car, or made it to shore after being dumped into some wicked white water rapids.
Fingers snapped in my face.
"Hello space cadet," Tod said. "Beverage?" He motioned to the apron-clad waitress smacking watermelon gum at our table.
"Coffee," I said. "With cream, please."
As she moved on, Phil raised his eyebrow at me. "No offense, Gia, but you don't look like you need more caffeine."
I shook my head. "Why do you have to be so darn perceptive all the time," I said, smacking him lightly. "But I'm fine, really."