...when all of a sudden the old dude sitting adjacent to us starts convulsing and grabbing his chest. His eyes rolled back and he couldn't respond.
When something like that happens, the bacon that you're gnawing on doesn't seem so tasty anymore. Two nurses in the restaurant hurdled some Sunday breakfast eaters and rushed over to him after hearing the commotion. Seth jumped on his phone and called 911 to summon the ambulance.
Seth and I had pretty much served our purpose...I mean...unless Mr. Heart Attack wanted us to regale him with tales of nuclear power or government spending, there really wasn't much more we could do.
It all reminded me of that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" when Meg Ryan has a big "O" in the middle of the restaurant and the old lady tells the waitress, "I'll have what she's having."
Except...I'll never want what that guy was having. In fact, he may have given me a lifetime aversion to buttermilk pancakes.
And I love pancakes.
I hope Mr. Heart Attack is okay. We left when the ambulance arrived.