![]() Lining the perimeter were red booths and tables so immaculate, they looked as though they’d never been touched by human hands. A gorgeous, red checkerboard pattern painted the interior of the building. While I waited for service, I surveyed my surroundings. The diner was void of life, but I heard a voice yell out from the kitchen. Could they really get by on the odd passerby here and there?Īfter admiring the diner’s craftsmanship, I barged in, intent on satisfying my late-night case of the munchies. It was so sleek and well-crafted that I wondered why it was located in the middle of nowhere. The smooth metal exterior gleamed in the moonlight as I walked up. It was a beautiful, retro-themed, silver, box-car diner. I jumped out of my car and rushed towards the entrance, but not before taking a quick look at the place. Hungry as ever, I pulled in without hesitation. Cheekier and larger still, there was a big flashing arrow beneath the sign, pointing to the diner in question. I guessed that they really wanted to drive the “we never close” angle home, and in a cheeky manner no less. Coming closer, I was able to make out what it said “Supernova Diner,” followed by an even larger subheading “Open 25 Hours a Day”. ![]() This signaled to me that I must have been reaching the outskirts of civilization – furthermore, it meant nourishment was just around the corner.Īs I approached the glimmering light, I realized it was that of a large, neon sign. I was just about to give up on “Operation: Midnight Snack” when I saw a faint glow off in the distance. Worst of all, I didn’t even have a phone signal to pull up my GPS. No gas stations, no fast food joints, no buildings of any kind. I drove on for what must have been thirty minutes or so. I was between a rock and a hard place, as tightly squished as one could be. I found myself longing for sustenance, fantasizing about dreadful gas station food – anything that would placate my insatiable, late-night hunger. ![]() I tried to ignore the feeling, but this became increasingly difficult as the night went on. On this drive, however, I grew particularly hungry. Picturing my eventual slumber is what kept my foot on the gas pedal. I would then enter my bedroom and meet my blankets with a hard thud, falling asleep almost immediately after my head hit the pillow. I would push through exhaustion and discomfort, making my way home in one fell swoop. ![]() In an effort to minimize my commute, I usually refrained from making pit stops. Though tedious and sometimes downright soul-crushing, I’d grown used to the lonely road trips back and forth from state to state. Having always been scared of flying, the monotonous trek was unavoidable. I was on my way back from a week-long business trip, facing at least a twelve-hour drive home. Late one night, I found myself driving down what seemed like an endless stretch of road. ![]()
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