Dateline: an applebees in Lewisville, Texas. 11:40 on a Thursday night.

The people here are broken. There is a man next to me whose head is covered by a tattoo of what appears to be a howling demon. His girlfriend is wearing dirty, white, platform flip-flops and what looks to be his too-large baby blue hoody sweatshirt. She has REALLY long fake fingernails. Eight and a half of them, anyway. She keeps flirting with me.