Richard, Issue #1
What makes the Doo-Dah Counter so special—the terrific food or the terrific people? It’s a rare combination of both that exerts its magnetism on my 2-, 3- or 4-wheeled conveyance (depending on the weather and the degree of hunger) each day. Where else can you find such interesting people to visit while savoring one of Patrick’s consummate culinary concoctions?
The Doo-Dah Counter can be a delectable experience. Just grin, say, “Hi,” and start asking questions.
When the 30-year-old automotive technician finished licking his plate clean, the executive from Koch Industries fell heir to his counter stool. He was accompanied by his wife, who runs a fireworks business. They had moved to Wichita from the Pacific Northwest after learning of the Doo-Dah Counter. It was the “bat out of hell meat loaf” that cinched it for him—with good reason. If you haven’t tried it, you must. Timirie is proud to claim it as her recipe. She changed the green peppers to red peppers in her mother’s recipe.
The handsome young man who climbed onto the warm counter stool next to the kitchen had the looks of a rock star. You would guess that he had the world by the tail. However, he is recovering from the third operation on his right eye. He is fighting to keep his vision. He grinned as he revealed his plans to sport an eye patch during the healing process.
The strength and conditioning coach moved to Wichita the first part of August. Judging from his youthful looks, I asked him if he was fresh out of school. His surprising response was that, including five years of internship, he had already practiced his profession for twelve years in Northern California. His personal conditioning makes it obvious that he knows his business. This was his first time at the Doo-Dah Counter, and he polished off a big breakfast burrito and some banana bread French toast. Hmm.
The regulars know the chiropractor at the Doo-Dah counter as “Doc.” If you are in need of a smile, drop him one. You are guaranteed to get one in return. Do it before he takes that next bite, though.
The backyard swimming pool is sitting on the delivery truck in front of the house, and there is no way to drive the truck around the house. What do you do? Answer: You call the man with the suave moustache who was sitting next to me this summer relishing the Doo-Dah special of the day, a patty melt with French fries. He was born into his line of work. His father had been a crane operator, and he, the day before, had used his crane to lift a swimming pool up and over a house to place it in the back yard. Can you do that? Would it even occur to you to do that?
A few weeks ago I struck up a conversation with a 46-year-old, who looked more like 26, sitting next to me at the Doo-Dah counter. It turned out that he was here from New York City to play a lead part in a musical at Century II. Later Googling found that he has been a lead in one of the longest-running Broadway shows, and he is now the lead in an off-Broadway show.
Aren’t you glad you came?