There is a tiny greasy spoon called "Harold's" on the main drag on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It is a staple for the locals in the winter and gets flooded with tourists once the golf season starts in March and straight through the beach season and back to the golf season ending in November. But no one goes there for the food,
They are there for the entertainment, There are only about 5 tables for two and a short counter, but people wait. As soon as the front door sign says , "Sorry, we're open" (really) they start stumbling in.
Behind the counter is Chuck, a redheaded young (compared to me) guy who owns the place. He is the world's worst host, but world's greatest Red Sox fan. Don't walk in with a Yankees ball cap on...it either comes off or you go hungry.
Chuck's favorite one liner goes like this: Almost every tourist is trying to get friendly so he can eat. So they say "Are you Harold?". His stock answer is a straight-faced, "No, Harold is dead". It cracks up the regulars every time.
Just thought I'd share a little background of how my Chuck's Diner came to be. Hope I got you to smile. I also have to brag a little since it is included with "Curb Your Dog" and many much nicer rugs by some great artists in Ellen Banker's new book, "Hooked on Words".
Hook with happiness!