WHEN IS A CHICKEN SALAD NOT A CHICKEN SALAD

I love the sheer variety of places to eat when in a big city.

At home, there are only two Chinese restaurants, about three Mexican restaurants, six fast-food joints and a handful of sit-down restaurants.

Oh, and one Korean and one Vietnamese place.

And that's within an hour's drive from my place.

Here in Oceanside, there is literally HUNDREDS of eating places to choose from.

So today we stopped at a Firehouse Subs for, yes, don't be surprised, a subway sandwich.

I ordered a chicken salad sub... at least I thought I did.

I was confused when they did NOT ask me what type of bread I wanted, but verbally listed every type of dressing available - which isn't unusual as a condiment on a sandwich, but I thought rather lengthy in their variety.

So what did I end up with?

A salad.

A chicken salad.

It wasn't bad.

But it was NOT a sub.

IS IT THAT TIME OF NIGHT ALREADY?

I've always been a night-owl.

I loved working nights through college. The funniest things always seem to happen around 2 a.m.

Even meals at Denny are lovely at 3:30 a.m.



Reality as a whole becomes something completely different after you've been awake over 24 hours.





And it's true that sleep deprivation can make you criminally insane.


But even now I end up staying awake much later than I know is good for me.







Only because I know I can go back to sleep after I feed the horses in the morning.



So why am I writing this?







As an excuse to stay up just a little bit later.

ORIGINATED IN CALIFORNIA - WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED

My relationship with Denny's has been permanently damaged, I fear.

Denny's was an amazing experience of culinary mediocrity when I was in college and it was the only place back in the 70's which was open at 3 a.m., which is when I normally got off work and/or had friends to hang out with in the wee hours of the morning.

I have been forced back into a kinship of sorts with Denny's over the past ten years by my second daughter's adoration for huge cholerically-overburdened breakfast plates and our local franchise being a few short block's from her apartment.

But last time I visited, I requested French Toast.... and received French Fries.


Today I ordered French Toast (certainly they couldn't get it wrong twice in a row), and got the smallest piece of bread I have ever seen dipped in batter, fried, and almost overwhelmed by the one scoop topping of fat lard... er, sorry, it's called butter in polite circles.

From now on, it's gonna be McDonad's Egg McGriddles or nothing - sorry, Denny's, you had your chance.