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A diner diary

Reflections from an evening at the Broadway Diner.

By Mariah Hibbard

Published Dec. 4, 2009

Broadway Diner late at night means hot food, kitsch and a special kind of charm. It means intoxicated conversations, loud outbursts and a constant buzz from the jukebox. More than anything, it's an experience — one many diners find unforgettable.

The diner opened in 1949 and has since become an iconic piece of Columbia culture. Its small setting and inexpensive food draws customers inside, but its incomparable atmosphere makes it truly unique. Eleven years ago, owner Ed Johnson had the choice to allow the diner to close or to take it upon himself to save it. The diner thrives to this day, providing classic cuisine into the early morning hours.

"Every community should have a good diner," Johnson said.

Patrons new to the diner quickly realize this is an incredibly social environment. Late at night, the diner is rambunctious like a warped middle school sleepover. The camaraderie among diners, though it might depart by morning, can't be ignored.

11:30 p.m.

I walked into the diner and took a seat at the bar. It was slow at the time, but I was hopeful. After a quick trip through the menu, I decided on a half order of French toast and a Diet Pepsi. I'd say it was a recipe for a good night. The French toast was heavenly.

11:55 p.m.

The first signs of entertainment for the night stumbled in bringing the promise of a good time. They discussed the differences in various types of battleships as a part of what they referred to as "a cultural education" with several expletives.

Meanwhile, a rather disheveled looking pair began an after-school special-style argument.

"I don't even think I like you anymore," one slurred to the other between drinks of water.

12:30 a.m.

The battleship aficionados have moved on. The quote of the hour? "Anywho, dónde está were we?" — a question one patron asked after being sidetracked by free water. A waitress asked the group to use inside voices, which prompted an exaggerated whisper for a short time.

Pan to the left, and the bickering couple appeared to have reconciled and ordered food with seemingly happy demeanors. For now.

Meanwhile, I order a piece of chocolate silk pie. This was the best idea I've ever had.

1 a.m.

The grill man is a true sight to see. His organization is impressive and his product is delicious. From the counter, you can see what this grill master is working with. I couldn't help but stare as he tossed about a mountain of hash brown potatoes like it was nothing, keeping a cool, collected demeanor. This late-night rush is a way of life for the employees, who glide around the diner weaving in and out of inebriated patrons without missing a beat.

A waitress brought a patron what is affectionately referred to as "The Stretch," and the name fits well. The egg-chili-everything-else combo is bound to be a feat for the appetite of any person. This particular young man seemed to greet the challenge with fervor. His friends chanted, and his lady companion seemed disgusted. But try he did. Less than 10 minutes later, he was crying for mercy. A valiant effort indeed.

1:20 a.m.

Another booth receives its food. They babble about how excited they were, until one raises his hands for silence. He closed his eyes, and said: "Dear Lord, please grant me a futon." He paused. "And an internship." He concluded and began to eat, looked at his friend across the table and asked, "Do you want to take a nap in a yard after this?"

I found the foresight impressive.

1:58 a.m.

A new wave of hungry diners pushes its way in. They quickly fire up the jukebox with a playlist comprised of Queen's "Fat-Bottomed Girls" and "Come Together" by The Beatles. They let their heads bob to the beat, muttering mutilated renditions of the lyrics. What they lacked in memory, they made up for with enthusiasm. "Come togeeeether, right nooooow,.....wait what?"

2:15 a.m.

The rush is temporarily calmed down and the waitresses begin to clean up the mess. Many patrons left, but more were sure to come as the night pressed on. As I walked out the door, someone behind me screamed "That's a ballgame!" I couldn't help but share his sentiment.

Johnson said he has seen thousands of memorable customers. One year ago, he began to collect signatures from his customers. He estimates having about 2,000 in the collection.

"I wish I would've started 20 years ago," he said. "I would probably have 10s of thousands."

Johnson said many of his customers don't forget their experiences at the diner.

"I get e-mail from customers all over the world who have moved on to bigger and better things who still ask about the diner," he said. "Alumni from 35 to 40 years ago come back looking for it. It's a social experience to go to the diner."