The scenarios are few and familiar: The party is over, or fizzling to a slow death (which means, if you happen to be on or near Hill Street, that the keg has run dry), and all that remains is the treacherous walk home, over miles of mid-Michigan perma-frost.
Or perhaps the Basement Arts, State Theater or Michigan Theater late show has just gotten out, and, again, the only option seems to be tarrying forth, passed endless neon streams of "Closed" signs, until you stumble tiredly into your blue-lit living room. At this point, your housemate and his occasional, romantic house guest, who have settled in for a quiet viewing of "Ghostbusters II," greet you with a frigid, dumbfounded, "What's up?" before you stumble, embarrassed, off to bed.
Such is how many nights needlessly end for University students, because they have failed to consider the plump selection of late-night hangouts where they can put off the return home for a few hours. Ann Arbor offers several locales, of various quality and atmosphere, to which the hungry, displaced or insomniac student can sojourn.
The perennial favorite is Denny's. Just a few miles up Washtenaw Avenue from central campus, its yellow, illuminated sign promises that patrons are welcome at any time, any day of the week. As with most Denny's restaurants in this hemisphere, the Ann Arbor one is decorated in simulated wood grain and plush, patterned booths.
In the last few years, the traditional decor has been modernized by a neon green light along the ceiling and an extensive dessert counter. First there is the option of smoking or non-smoking. Unlike most franchised restaurants, Denny's has bucked the trend of banning all smoking, much to the happiness of many tobacco afficionados.
Only in this one facet has Denny's lagged behind the curve. The food selection, as the dessert counter addition suggests, has kept up with the times. In addition to breakfast and dinner entrees, the discriminating patron has the choice of numerous appetizers or a combination of them all, with the ingenious "sampler platter" option.
Joe, who declined to give his last name, is an EMU student and recent addition to the late-night Denny's wait staff. He said that appetizers are among the most popular night-time foods. Coffee, unsurprisingly, is the preferred beverage, though not because of its rich, mountain grown flavor. Denny's coffee has a taste, strong in body, but leaves the palate non-plussed, unless much sugar is added.
For those who desire an alternative to coffee, LSA sophomore Fritz Swanson suggests, "Get as much lemonade as you want by ordering lemon slices, sugar packets and water and mixing it all together. And then you order strawberries and cream for 50 cents and saltines, and you've got a whole meal."
Ypsilanti High School student and Denny's regular Brandon said "Moons Over My Hammy," a ham and egg sandwich, is his favorite offering. The five other members of his party assented, except for fellow student Jeff, who said, "I like the salad because of the ranch (dressing)."
This group seemed typical of many who frequent the Ann Arbor Denny's. They were cautious in their praise of the food, yet remain dedicated, even die-hard, patrons. Brandon said his party comes so often that "you start to recognize all the other people."
The most convincing sign of their devotion to Denny's, however, was, that they "notice when the menus are different than normal," Jeff said. The atmosphere, more than the food, is the real draw.
Though Denny's never closes, there is a time limit on seating, and patrons may be asked to leave if the management deems they have stayed too long. Usually, "it is two hours after the food arrives," Joe said, but noted that only during final exam periods is the limit strictly enforced. "People come expecting to use the place as a library and there get to be lines out the door," he said.
This time limit seems well justified by LSA first-year student Ryan Horky's annecdote: "We went to a Rage concert and, on the way back, we stopped at Denny's and sat there drinking water until 4 a.m."
The occasionally copious crowds and frugal customers are not the only reason for such time limits. Joe said there have been fights in the past which have involved gangs, the use of ketchup and mustard bottles as projectiles, and - most surprisingly, considering Joe's friendly, passive demeanor - his decidedly impassive cousin. Brandon also suggested that Denny's was not always the most secure of late-night hangouts.
"My friend Bruce is scared to come here," Brandon said, "because he almost got beat-up and says I'm not big enough to protect him." A little danger is inevitable with a crowd as diverse as that which Denny's attracts. Though the booths are relatively uniform in their brown neutrality, the patrons who sit in them ostensibly come from all walks of life.
For example, last Sunday, one man, clad in black, looking like he is in his mid-50s, sat at the lunch counter, smoking an endless chain of Marlboros. His head was crowned with both a black hunter's cap and a pair of virtual-reality sunglasses. Not far from him, a saccharine couple sat, their hands met in affection on the table, as they absently waited. Larger groups of college and high school students were spread throughout the rest of the restaurant, some rushing in and out for a quick bite, others lingering for hours, in avoidance of another night's closure.
Those students who cannot, or do not want to, drive all the way to Denny's, still have several excellent options.
While Denny's has proven its appeal on a national level, there are other late-night hangouts particularly suited to the Ann Arbor scene, the most traditional of which may be the Fleetwood Diner. Even now, it remains the only all-night restaurant within walking distance from campus.
The slender, white building is reminiscent of a trailer; this only enhances its reputation as Ann Arbor's greasiest greasy-spoon. Located on the corner of Ashley and Liberty streets, the Fleetwood seems as though it had been lifted by a tornado, right out of the trailer park, and planted, by luck rather than intent, in the midst of more refined, red brick buildings. Such a locale lends a hardened, proletarian feel to the Fleetwood atmosphere. It seems, in coming to this diner, that the patron is consciously rejecting the fluff and luxury of other nearby restaurants and bars, such as Grizzly Peak or Bird of Paradise.
Inside, the seating is cramped and uncomfortable, and the walls are unadorned except for the posted menu and the glimmering metal of the stove behind the lunch counter. In warmer seasons, seating is available on the shaded patio out front, but during the winter it is best to either stand patiently until one of the tables is free, or be on your way.
The fare, on the whole, is not intrinsic to the Fleetwood's success. Unlimited hours, and an environment both austere and seedy, is what draws the clientele. The Hippy Hash, a flavorful mixture of hash browns and vegetables, is an exception to this rule, and remains one of the most rewarding and inexpensive fried dishes available in the city.
Indeed, when asked to share his thoughts on the Fleetwood, one student thought first of incidents and crowd, rather than the food.
LSA fifth-year senior Rich Goodloski reminisced of a certain Wednesday night, some time ago. "My friends were here from out of town, Arizona and East Lansing, and three guys came up and started rubbing our shoulders. I took it as part of the Fleetwood experience, but my friend wanted to fight them," Goodloski said.
Perhaps a free massage does not come with every meal, but LSA sophomore Elizabeth Moore argues otherwise. "This one guy who looked like Telly, from (the film) 'Kids,' spilled his water on my skirt and tried to wipe it off with his hands." Unlike Goodloski's friend, who restrained himself, Moore says that her boyfriend wrestled the would-be masseur to the ground later that same week.
For the weak of heart, or sensitive to touch, Mr. Greek's Coney Island provides gentler environs. Soft green and red brick walls surround a long stretch of booths and tables. On one wall is a giant Mr. Greek's logo, along the other is a series of kitschy photographs of classical sculpture. There is nothing ribald about the photographs, however, since each is adorned with colorful neon highlights, which conceal, among other things, the genitalia of Poseidon and Zeus. On the whole, Mr. Greek's atmosphere is clean, cheerful and inviting.
George Costos, co-owner of Mr. Greek's, said that on weekends it fills up after the bars close. Coney dogs and their "anytime" breakfast features are the most popular late-night items, he said, and added that they are an excellent, filling way to cap off a night of strong drink.
"It's a pretty mellow crowd," Costos noted. "The service is pretty quick and a lot of police come in late at night." Obviously, then, the clientele's patience will not be exasperated, but, if by some chance trouble does arise, an officer or two will always be around to restore order.
Security and decor aside, Mr. Greek's offers some of the best and cheapest food among the late-night venues. They sell a variety of coney dogs and hamburgers, but more traditional Greek fare is also available. From stuffed grape leaves to chicken shishkabobs, Mr. Greek's promises a satisfying late-night meal. They also serve ice cream and frozen yogurt in several flavors and styles. Mr. Greek's rice pudding is particularly worthy of mention, since the restaurant is one of only a few that still serves such a sweet delicacy.
And speaking of rice pudding, one of the few other restaurants that serves the delicacy is The Brown Jug. A late-night Ann Arbor tradition, The Brown Jug is only open until 3 a.m., but it offers a slightly more welcoming, Denny's-esque atmosphere, along with a fully stocked and inexpensive bar. Unlike most other late-night hangouts, here you can relax in an intimate booth, order good food and quaff cocktails or beer, all at the same time.
Photographs and memorabilia bespeckle the walls, depicting great and minor moments in University history, and suggest The Jug's integral presence during that same time period. Indeed, Brown Jug/Back Room Pizza is a particularly enduring and affordable tradition (a wide slice of cheese pizza goes for only $1). Though it fails to equal the quality of, say, Cottage Inn's pizza, The Jug's is flavorful and more than worth the short walk to South University Avenue for a slice or two.
On the other hand, the chili-cheese fries, along with much of the other food, should be avoided; there are few things less appetizing than two partially melted Kraft singles thrown on top of a pile of bland refried beans and crinkle-cut fries. The Jug is an ideal hangout, however, a great place to get a pizza and a pitcher of beer, but the faux-Tex-Mex cuisine is best left to more capable hands.
Whatever your tastes, there is always someplace open, only a short distance away. Even if the food sometimes misses the mark, the purpose of a late-night hangout is far loftier than gastronomic bliss. Diners, like The Fleetwood, are oases of American, working-class culture, where the otherwise bored and lonely student can come to talk, smoke, sip bad coffee and while away those darkest hours before the dawn.
ROB GILMORE/Daily
Erin Dewsbury and LSA senior Amit Gaggar hang out and enjoy a snack at the Brown Jug early one morning.
ROB GILMORE/Daily
Cook Halit Methasani and customer Eliza Robert joke around at the Fleetwood Diner.