Not a fancy diner. One of those places where the coffee has been sitting on a burner since the Clinton administration.

The waitress comes over.

Nice lady.

Seemed tired.

The kind of tired where you don't ask how somebody's doing because you already know.

She says, "What'll it be?"

I order two eggs over easy, bacon, toast, hash browns.

She writes it down.

Now the guy in the booth next to me orders oatmeal.

I remember this because I thought, "Oatmeal? At a diner?"

You can make oatmeal at home.

That's the whole appeal of oatmeal.

So already this guy's suspicious.

Then he asks for a side of raisins.

Now he's got my full attention.

The waitress leaves.

A few minutes later she comes back carrying my breakfast.

Eggs.

Bacon.

Toast.

Hash browns.

The whole thing.

Then she puts down the oatmeal.

Only no raisins.

The guy says, "Excuse me, I ordered raisins."

The waitress says, "Sorry, I'll get them."

She comes back with raisins.

The guy smiles.

And for some reason, the entire restaurant starts clapping.

Not loud clapping.

Polite clapping.

The kind of clapping people do when they don't really know why they're clapping.

Now I'm looking around trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

The cook comes out.

The manager comes out.

A busboy I've never seen before comes out.

Everybody's smiling at this oatmeal guy.

I finally ask the waitress, "Who is this guy?"

She says, "Oh, nobody special."

I say, "Then why's everybody acting like he cured polio?"

She says,

"Today's his raisin day."

And that's when I realized it was my cake day.