Something weird happens when we go to Dick's for breakfast. It's not just breakfast, and it's not about us. It's an event, and it's all about Dick's. The ride there - it's all we talk about - what we ordered last time, how frellin' good it was, what we're going to order this time (That's right - we've got the menu memorized. You don't? You obviously haven't been to Dick's enough). So we order, we sip our drinks (Bloody Mary for me, Mimosa for my breakfast buddy), and we talk about Dick's - how much we like Dick's, how cool Dick's is, how we need to come back to Dick's more often. And then they bring the food (best shrimp quesadillas EVER! the huevos rancheros are damn fine too), so no more more talking. Just eating. You may hear a few mmmm's and ahhh's, definitely a couple of ohmygoditsogood's, but no real dialogue. Not until our plates are bare. And the drive home we tell each other how good it was, like we weren't both there.