Wingers Days (part 1)

I was sorting through boxes that we have stored at my parent's house when I came across an old photo book that spanned about seven years of my life. The only reason I was even going through boxes, sorting, throwing any black metal dollar store candle holders I was saving and any old moon & stars decor that I use to think would be in style forever, hence the reason why I was keeping it all in boxes in my parents basement....wait....I just lost my place...oh right the reason I was sorting shit was because my husband's "band" (band is put in parenthesis because who knows when one or two of the band members will decide that they don't want to be in the band any more like a premenstrating teenager going through boyfriends like a vending machine goes through quarters) needs a practice space. They can't drink in my parent's basement so we'll see how long this lasts. ANYWAYS....I'm all over the place hold on tight if you decide to keep reading.

{since starting this story they have decided to practice at a different venue (I knew it) - you're welcome mom for the semi-organized basement}

Right. The photobook. It's not a big photobook and definitely doesn't cover everything that happened in those seven years of my life but it did cover most of the fun times I had spent serving at Wingers diner. It does, however, consist of a lot of Halloween costume pictures. I was seventeen and working at Wendys and also at some telecommunications call center when my friend, Jenni, practically forced me to go and apply for this new restaurant that was coming to town. This is how I remember it happening but I'm sure I followed her without much coaching.

A new restaurant in American Fork 16 years ago was a big deal for this small town. Before Wingers opened I think the only other two actual restaurants were China Lilly (I think that was the name; Lee's, oh crap) and Mi Ranchito. We walked in ready to apply as hostesses. I had always said I would NEVER be a server. Never. I was dead set against it but by the time we walked out the door she had gotten a hostess position and I was walking out a fucking waitress. You can imagine the major eye rolling that came from 17 year-old me. But I wasn't quite as feisty then as I am now. I just sort of went along with it like I was in a trance. I especially wouldn't have agreed to go along with this whole serving bullshit if I had known that the manager who hired me was a swinging pervert. At that time, who knew that I would stay at that place through the rest of high school, all through college and a failed marriage....

{more to come}