The news that a certain Ballard eyesore (the Denny’s on 15th and Market) will be bulldozed in early 2008 reminded me of my extra-special delicious post-nightclub snack back in the late nights of my goth-inspired youth.
My favorite Detroit-area nightclubs (The Shelter, City Club, Todd’s, The Warehouse) would close down at 2am, but often my friends and I would still be wide awake and desperate to replace the calories we had just sweat off on the dance floor.
We frequented two 24-hour establishments known for their cheap fare and tolerance for loitering: the Flaming Embers on Woodward Ave. and Grand Circus Park, and the Denny’s on Woodward and 16 Mile Road. There were other round-the-clock joints in town, but those were our favorites.
Invariably, the initial site of black-haired, earring-ridden, trench-coated kids drew stares, but we were a friendly lot and were mostly respectful of other diners. The staff at both places got to know us and learned our regular orders.
Mine was french fries and vanilla ice cream. The first few times I ordered the combo, the waitress had to be convinced to bring them out at the same time. It’s not like I dipped the fries in the ice cream or anything; I just liked to alternate between bites of the crispy, greasy, salty goodness of the fry and the cold, slimy, sweetness of the ice cream.
Since I was usually the designated driver, I needed my energy to ferry my friends back to the four corners of the greater metropolitan area. It usually took about an hour to get everyone safely back to their homes, and the sugar blast from the starchy potatoes and creamy dessert kept me alert just long to complete my taxi rounds and land safely at my apartment round about 4:00.
Nearly twenty years later, it’s not the pounding beat of the music or the carnal writhing on the dance floor that I miss — it’s the eating of that many carbs without feeling guilty.
