"Yes, well," I said. "1 is indeed the loneliest number." Just then a woman emerged from the restroom, which we were sitting right next to.

"Jeez, she was in there a while," noted Ariel.

"Must've been number 2," I deadpanned. We all busted up.

The waitress was back and still reliving old convos with other people. "I said to him, 'You find me a man, and I'll call the president,'" she relayed. "He knows what I want. He knows the guy I want. I will call the president and spark a revolution. Are you ready for the bill?"

Yes, thank you.

"He's an alcoholic, a real drinker. Hahahaha ..." she added, walking gingerly in her heels over to the cash register.

Man I dug this place. I even thought of a new bumper sticker. "I Break for Cuban Nutjobs."

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