And to think, I’d just stopped into the little diner for a bite of breakfast.

I didn’t expect to get embroiled in such a controversy.

I like a good breakfast when I’m on the road, and I had a car full of samples to show to buyers in Lincoln, Denver, Las Vegas and Phoenix.  Two weeks on the road.  It gets tiring, but that’s my game – carpet.  A-One Carpets and Floor Coverings, and I’m the top sales guy, territory covers most of the West.

It’s a good thing I don’t mind driving.

Anyway, on the morning in question, I’d just stopped into this little diner in North Platte, Nebraska for a bite to eat.  It was a tiny little place, maybe ten booths and a counter, but there were several truck drivers in there, eating and passing the time.

Truckers always know the best places to eat.  That’s the first thing I ever learned when I started making my living on the road.

I took a seat at the counter – counter waitresses are always the more experienced and faster girls in any place that has them – and was taking a look over the menu when a short, portly little fellow in a dark yellow shirt and lemon-yellow tie took the stool next to me.  He looked for all the world like a little lemon with thick glasses.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” I answered.

“Eat here before?”

“No,” I told him.  “I’m on the way to Denver.  Place looked good.”

“It is.  I eat here a lot.  I work in the railroad yard on the other side of the river.  Sam Howard,” he said, extending his hand.  I shook his hand, told him my name.

“You want my recommendation?”

It never hurts to listen to the locals in such things.  “Sure.”

“Try the ham and eggs.  It’s the best breakfast in the house.”

I flipped the menu to the next page, and there, big as life, was a color photo of the ham and egg breakfast. It all looked pretty standard, except…

“Looks sort of odd.  A little…  green?”

“Yeah, it is, a little.”

I turned the menu to catch the light a little better.  “Is it the menu?  Faded or something?”

“No, no, that’s just the way it is.”

“Green?”

“Green-ish, yeah.”

“I think I’ll pass.  I don’t think I can get past that color – looks like they’ve gone bad or something.”

Sam waved at the waitress, asked for coffee.  “Well, they’re not something you’d eat at home, I guess.  I mean, do you think you’d cook up something like that in your own house?  Like you said, the only way you’ll get something like that in your own house is if it had gone bad.  I’d be worried about attracting vermin.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to cook anything that color in my house.  It’s like you said – I’d be wondering if it would attract mice.  I don’t want to eat anything that’s had mice nibbling on it.”

“Yeah,” Sam continued, “But that’s the thing about the ham and egg breakfast here, you see, it isn’t bad.  It’s quite good, in fact.  It’s just the color’s a little odd.  There, see, there goes Janie with a plate now.”

The counter waitress passed by in front of me with a large plate full of ham and eggs.  They did have a definite green tinge to them.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?”  Sam asked.

“Not bad, but I’ve had a bit of a cold.  I can’t smell too much.”

“Trust me, they’re good.  They’re unusually good.  I’ve had them packed up on take-out to take out as a picnic when I’ve gone out to the lake.”

“Box lunch?”  I asked.  “How was it when you got there?”

“Great.  Smelled so good, I had a fox wander down the shore looking for it.  I tossed him a couple of bits.  He seemed to like it.”  Sam shook some sugar into his coffee, stirred it.

“Still,” I said.  “I don’t need a box lunch today.  And I’m not so sure I’d trust an animal’s judgment on culinary matters, anyway – foxes are mostly scavengers, aren’t they?  I don’t know as I’d set down to share a ham and egg breakfast with one.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam tasted his coffee, made a face.  “You’d think a place that put up a ham and egg breakfast as good as they do here could make a decent cup of coffee.”

“Here – try some creamer.”  I passed him the little container of creamer packets.

“Thanks.  Still, you’re a traveling guy, right?  Janie there can make you a ham and egg sandwich on an English muffin.  Her sandwiches are great, and you can take it along with you – have it for lunch, maybe.”

“No, I never eat in my car.  I’m in the car enough as it is, I like to stop and eat.  Besides, ham and eggs sandwiches are too messy – I’d get it all over the upholstery.”

“My son always asks for a pack of Janie’s sandwiches when he and his friends are spending the night in the tree house I built him.  Can you imagine that?  I tell you; I can’t even remember what it was like to spend the night in a tree house.”

“Me either.  And I’d sure never take one in my car – that’s a Company car, you know.  If I got egg stains all in the upholstery, there’d by trouble.  Say, would you mind if I just looked over the menu for a minute?”

“No, not at all.”  Sam leaned over the counter, sipping his coffee.

The pancakes looked good.  I’d just about made up my mind to order the blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon when Sam spoke up again.

“You know, I rode the Amtrak to New York last year.  The dining cars on those things are just awful – you can’t get anything decent for breakfast.  Too bad you can’t get something as good as the ham and eggs from this place on the train.  You ever ride Amtrak?”

“No.”  I hate to admit it, but Sam was beginning to get on my nerves – and I like people in general.  Heck, I wouldn’t be much of a salesman if I didn’t like people.

“Well, if you ever did, you’d be damned glad to see a plate of Janie’s ham and eggs on that train.”

“I don’t think so.  I’m really more of a pancake man, myself.”  I turned away, hoping the little man would take the hint, but he went right on talking.

“You know, you’re just turned off by the look of them, that’s all.  If you just tried them, without worrying about the color, you’d probably like them.”

“I’m just really not interested, thanks.  I don’t even like ham and eggs that much in any case, and when they’re a funny color like that, well…”

“Yeah,” Sam plowed on, gesturing with his coffee cup, “But let’s say you were in here with the lights turned down one night.  If it was just a little bit dark, you’d have eaten them before you ever noticed the color.  Then you’d know how good they are.”

“No thanks.  Listen, if you don’t mind, I’ve about decided to have the blueberry pancakes.”

“All right,” Sam said.  “Those are good too, don’t get me wrong.  But boy, those ham and eggs…” Just then the waitress passed by with another plate of ham and eggs, again tinged that damnable green.  Was everybody in the place eating the things?

“It wouldn’t have to be really dark, even.  It’s just a hint of green.  Even if the sun wasn’t coming in those windows so strong, say if it was raining, you’d probably never notice it.”

“Listen, not even if it was raining and I was riding one of those Amtrak cars.  There’s just no way.  Now could I look over the menu, please?”  I don’t like getting curt with people, but this Sam with his yellow shirt was really beginning to bug me.

“Okay, okay, sheesh.  Just trying to help you out.  I’d hate to see you go off with a bad impression of my hometown, you know.  And this place’s ham and egg breakfast is the best thing to eat in North Platte.  Everybody comes here for the breakfast, and they all seem to like the ham and eggs.”

And just as he said that, there went another plate of ham and eggs, trailing what I had to admit was a pretty good, savory ham-and-eggs kind of smell.  Still, there was that color.

“I wouldn’t feed them to a goat,” I snapped.  I felt bad about that, right away, but that Sam was just so insistent.  “And I can’t imagine a goat would be too happy about sharing a plate of spoiled ham and gone-over eggs.”

Sam actually chuckled.  “Well, friend, I can’t blame you there.  I wouldn’t want to set down at table with no goat, either.”

“Good.”  I waved at the waitress to order my pancakes, and she was walking down the counter towards us when Sam leaned over towards me again.

“You know, I just can’t let you leave without trying this breakfast.  It’s the best breakfast you’ll find in the Platte valley.  Come on, you’ll love it.  I’ll treat.  What do you say?”

“Oh, all right,” I sighed.  One thing a traveling man like me can’t refuse, it’s a free meal.  “I’ll try them.”  On Sam’s insistence, I ordered the ham and egg breakfast.

When the plate arrived, I stared at them for minute or so.  They looked like normal ham and eggs, except for that strange tinge of green.  It wasn’t really bad, but it was there.  They sure smelled good.

Sam was staring expectantly at me.  The waitress, Janie, was watching too – she must have heard part of the conversation.  There was nothing else I could do; I took a bite.

“They’re delicious!”

“See?  What’d I tell you?”  Sam was gloating, but he was a tad justified.  I took another bite.  “These are the best ham and eggs I ever had!”  I’d even forgotten my manners – my Mom would have smacked me for talking with food in my mouth like that.

I finished the plate quickly and waved to Janie to make up a couple sandwiches to take with me.  Sam was grinning like a Cheshire cat on his stool.

“You know,” I told him, “I took my wife on a Caribbean cruise last winter, and I thought they put up a good breakfast.  Their ham was good, but not this good.  And those eggs – well, I’d sure have taken these ham and eggs over the ham and eggs on that danged old boat.”

“Well, I’d hate to see you pass right on through and miss out.”

“And to think I said I’d have refused them to a goat!”  I laughed.  “And you know, the color really isn’t that noticeable – not that I wouldn’t eat them in a rainstorm or at night.  Heck, I’d eat these anytime.  I can see what you mean about Amtrak now – I’d be wanting something like this on the train over what they probably served.”

“You’ve got that right,” Sam chortled, adjusting his awful yellow tie.  “They’re good day or night.”

“Well, Sam, I can’t thank you enough.  Those ham and egg sandwiches will make a great lunch, too.  I might stop at a rest area, but you know, I may just nibble on them as I drive.  I can see why your son wanted them for his overnight!”

“A rest stop would be good.  You could always eat in one of those little picnic kiosks they have there.”

“I like those things,” I said.  “Even if they are like little brick boxes with doors.”

“And you won’t have to worry about the wildlife coming around to beg for food, either,” Sam laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind,” I told him.  “I like animals.”

Janie brought my bag of sandwiches, and Sam insisted on paying for those, too.  “You make sure and stop by when you come back through,” he said.  “I’m here most every morning if you stop in for breakfast again.”

“I’ll do that, and thanks again.”  I thanked, Janie, too.  “Say, I don’t suppose there’s any chance of learning the secret?  So I can have them at the house?”

Janie laughed and shook her head, but I could tell she was pleased.

Sam was getting ready to leave as well, struggling his portly body into the most God awful dark yellow sport-coat.  I hadn’t noticed until that moment, but…

“Say, Sam, I just noticed.  You didn’t have anything but coffee!”

“Oh.  That.  Yeah.”  He thumped his chest.  “I can’t touch ham, or eggs, either.  Cholesterol.  My wife would hang me.”

“Oh.”

Sam shook my hand.  “You have a safe trip, friend, and stop back in anytime.”  He waved as he walked out the door towards his car.

Nice man, that Sam Howard.

But for the life of me, I never will understand how he could wear that awful yellow suit.