Perkins..

an international meeting place?

there i was, in Perkins Restaurant, just up the street from Notre Dame, quietly minding my own beeswax at lunch today, munching on my omlette and hash browns.

the women in the booth in front of me were speaking Spanish...Spain Spanish...complete with lispy "s" sounds. the man and woman in the booth behind me? some sort of Slavic language. it wasn't German. coulda been Russian, Polish, something akin to the accent of that female Russian spy that used to hit on Colonel Hogan all the time.

who knew Perkins had become the "international house of baked goods?"