Sliders by the Light of Day

For many, no actually for most, supping at White Castle with the sun high in the sky is an alien concept.

And that’s among those who would deign to darken the doors of the Porcelain Palace at all. For much of the populace, the eatery and its sublime offerings are an anathema to be scorned prior to investigation.

Silly them, Castles are actually tasty, not just fast. There’s something about how the bun and burger and cheese, all steamed, meld together that’s unique. And how just being in the place brings back memories of simpler, more carefree times.

Anyway, I found myself savoring a couple of cheese sliders and some rings mid afternoon, and realized there are some similarities to the normal middle of the night had a few too many and are on the way home but aren’t quite ready to hit the pillow yet experience shared by many.

For one I had to circle the joint to find the entrance to the parking lot. I was out running errands, realized I hadn’t eaten lunch, wouldn’t make it to dinner, was on my way to Whole Foods for groceries, and discerned if I didn’t find a fast food emporium for an MDR of flesh, fries and bun, I’d be stuck grazing dark leafy greens, legumes and heirloom tomato watermelon salad at Bezos Food Bar.

I wasn’t in an organic mood.

So I passed the WC, which struck a chord — for reasons soon to be explained — and doubled back for the repast. Twice, because I didn’t cut down the correct street the first time.

So that felt kind of familiar, hearkening back to the evenings of “Yo, dude, you just drove past the Castle. You sure you’re OK to drive.”

The second thing familiar: the two teenagers in front of me in line had just enough change for four sliders and a shared Coke, after foraging through every nook and cranny of their pockets for the final necessary pennies.

One thing, among a number of other menu changes, that isn’t the same as back in the day is the appearance of an Impossible Slider. You know, the non meat meat. I actually would have tried one today, but the clerk sheepishly advised, “We won’t have them in again until Tuesday.”

Some things are the same. Many, not so.

Why the White Castle grabbed my eye when I was honing in on maybe some Moby Dickjust up the road is a Zuckerbergian Insinuation.

Just yesterday I had a funny little back and forth with the classic kind of Facebook friend.

Harry is the younger brother of a couple of contemporaries from high school. The impish kid just a year or two too young to hang with in your teens. He was a Putt Putt champion if memory serves.

(The father of the three guys actually made a cameo appearance in Hunter Thompson’s famous Scanlon’s piece on the Kentucky Derby.)

Anyhow, I’ve only had two personal encounters with Harry since those teen days. When I was on the north side of law school and he might still have been in college, we stumbled upon each other at the Atlanta Pop Festival.

At that moment, sharing some sacrament of the day, I realized I probably had more in common with him than his brothers. We hung out for a short while, then trundled off into the rest of our lives.

The only other time I saw Harry was a few years back, when his brother passed away.

So, as is the way these days, we became FB pals and interact casually from time to time.

Like yesterday, when he posted a photo of White Castle on FB with this inscription, “You haven’t lived life . . . Until you’ve eaten here at three in the morning.”

To which I commented, “The real troopers, Harry, dine there by the light of day. Middle of the night is right of passage. Middle of the day, that’s dedication.”

After he agreed, I added, “And I’ve done it several times through the years. With impunity.”

As I did this afternoon.

Dinner, it looks like, will be later than usual.

— c d kaplan