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| - There's absolutely nothing wrong with getting old. It has its charms. It has its perks. One of which is The Castle.
Don't get me wrong: you don't have to be older than polyester to enjoy the Egg Castle. I've been there when some young buck born during the Truman Administration shuffles in for "the usual," one egg, soft toast, double Metamucil, water back. He's all cocky, eyeing the blue-haired babes, whistling that new Harry James tune. Still, he's not the bedrock upon which The Castle is built.
No, the true worth of Egg is reliability. You'll sit in the same booth every time. You'll revel in "Akron's Best" eggs Benedict, sopping up the remaining egg with your perfect toast. And you'll get Madge, who has been serving here since it was The Egg Castle, then The Vineyard, and now the Egg Castle yet again.
Imagine The Castle in black and white. Trevor Howard and Orson Welles are in the next booth, going over their lines for "The Third Man," waiting for latkas, and you'll be right on the money. Fancy? Nahh. Memorable? I'm not sure. Steady? Yeah. Steady. Just bring me the breakfast, let me stare out the window, imagining a time "when things could grow, and days flowed quietly; the air was clean, and you could see; and folks were nice to you."
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