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| - I'd enjoyed Joe's Diner in its old location and was feeling good about checking it out in its newer, more convenient spot. Huge portions, good food, good service, what's not to like?
After I'd waited a while at the "please wait to be seated" sign, a server called out that she'd get to me in a minute, then went off to take the order of a large table. Okay, maybe they'd been waiting a while, and if you don't get that in to the kitchen, things bog down. Then another server came over and asked which of us in the foyer was first. "Me," I said. The father with two kids behind me said: "She is."
The server then looked right past me, picked up three menus, and went to seat the party behind me, the same party that was clearly puzzled and embarrassed to be seated first when they'd said it was my turn.
My strong suspicion, since I'm very tall and had gone for retro-glam in high-heeled mules and a large hat, was that the staff jumped to the erroneous conclusion that I was either a drag queen or transgender. That's an excellent reason for me to not spend money there: I live in a queer-friendly neighborhood because I like those values (whether I need them to apply to me or not) and there are plenty of places I'm more comfortable supporting.
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