Pizza Hut

I stopped at a Pizza Hut on my way back from Idaho in hopes of rekindling some sad childhood memories. My family came here quite a few times because we were poor but I was a big fan of the food, so it made no difference.

The buffet table remains a staple of The Hut but it is 1pm on a Monday, so it remains un-stocked and I am the only one in the entire restaurant. A couple young women work slowly in the kitchen and don’t seem to hate their lives as much as the urban fast food workers do. 


It must be dreadfully slow out here in Baker City, I don’t say to anyone out loud. It is barely a town. Barely a neighborhood. It’s a few gas stations, a few houses, a McDonalds, this Pizza Hut, mostly an endless stream of vehicles flying by at 90 MPH on their way to a place that’s real. These girls don’t much work here, they just guard this place, collecting income and biding their time until they can move somewhere with people, I hope. I am starting to feel not alive in this Hut so I must get going. 

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