The signs outside of Michael's Family Restaurant, 2220 W. Wisconsin Ave., declare – twice – that the 24-hour diner serves broasted chicken. After visiting the diner at very different parts of the day, it was learned that the diner hasn't served broasted chicken since 1954, and doesn't much resemble a family restaurant by 2:35 in the morning.
12:30 p.m. Sunday
Do you want hash browns or American fries with your cup of diversity?
The short-skirted waitresses must have something to hide on the bottom of each coffee cup because customers rarely get halfway through before it's refilled. Other than groups of Marquette students, church attendees, neighborhood residents and a priest are present. Cartoons and ESPN are on the television; four different ways to order your eggs – sunny side up, over-easy, over-medium, and scrambled – are depicted on the wall.
Everywhere in the mauve-colored restaurant is the smoking section – from the counter to the numerous booths to the side of the restaurant where many pies and cakes perpetually spin – or sit when the fridge isn't plugged in.
A customer sitting at the booth behind us tells the waitress the smoke from my friend's cigarette is "killing him," and simply asks to be moved, without bothering my friend. His request is fulfilled, and we continued eating our breakfast, priced 50 cents more after 11 a.m., but just as tasty when combined with sleeping in late.
The generally Americanized food is still reasonably priced, with most sandwiches hovering around $6, and almost everything else you can think of – including Italian plates, chicken, seafood, cake and desert.
Don't order the corned beef hash: it seems to be misspelled on the menu for a subliminal reason.
Fast service (especially for having only two cooks most of the time) means that food is always warm. And yes, with most breakfast items you do get a choice between American fries or the more thinly sliced hash browns.
7 p.m. Sunday
Waitress's-Eye-View
Business is slow at this time, and Maggie Hernandez, waitress at Michael's for 11 years, has some time to talk as she avoids the regulars who often pester her.
As one of the 10 full-time waitresses (none of the waitresses are part-time), she has seen many bands visit the restaurant because of its proximity to The Rave, including Sevendust, System of a Down, and Blue October. Run DMC has also visited.
She relays that the restaurant's former owner, Michael Christodoulakis, died three years ago, but the name and Greek imagery on the place settings remains.
Though her maroon uniform with cream-colored piping fits in with the diner's timeless atmosphere, she doesn't like it because when Christodoulakis owned the diner, the waitresses were allowed to wear scrubs, which were more comfortable.
The NBA All-Star game is on, and customers who have previously never met and who are separated by at least 30 years in age share predictions on the game, seeming only to have proximity to the restaurant and a love of sports in common.
A regular male customer tried to change the channel, and a waitress changed it back to the game, as most of the customer's wanted.
"I can leave it on Matthew McConaughey if you want," she said in the snappy banter required to work here and interact with all different people.
Students are also present in the restaurant at this time. Michael Ferry, a junior in the College of Communication, considers himself a regular at Michael's and lives two blocks away from the establishment. He visits for the reasonable prices and good portions.
"I don't like Miss Katie's (Diner)," he said about other food choices on the west side near campus. "They don't have good portions."
Ferry usually orders the Farmer's Omelet (three eggs, green peppers, onion, mushrooms) late at night – the time when he usually visits.
"I've probably witnessed a fight," he said of his late night/early morning visits, when Michael's "taxes the alcoholics" by adding gratuity directly on the check.
10:45 p.m. Sunday
A short scene
The third-shift waitress asks a middle-aged, male customer cloaked in a Packer's jacket how he was this evening.
"I'm going to go home and masturbate," the man replied.
"Sounds like fun," she said, without even flinching.
Two preachers sit in a booth less than 10 feet away.
10:50 p.m. Sunday
Bibi: The man, the myth, the omelet
Manager Bibi Nidal has three menu items named after him that he makes sure I write down, and he has been the manager of Michael's for the past 13 years.
In his time, he has witnessed fights, seen the restaurant turn from a popular Marquette study location to the diner it is now, diffused violent situations, and kicked a Milwaukee Bucks player out of his restaurant.
"I got one gun on me all the time," he said. "That's my mind." He implores me to look under the counter to see that there are no shotguns. "I have four guns," he continued, "but they are all locked up at home."
A table of upset customers wants to speak with him because their food is taking too long at this time of night. He settles things with them saying, "If you don't have time, this isn't the place. I don't want your money; I want your patience," he said.
If they knew how Bibi became manager of Michael's, they'd have to believe him.
"I was living in the neighborhood and running a grocery store. One night (in 1994) I came here and it was wall to wall" with customers, he said.
According to Nidal, there were only two waitresses, one around 70 years old, and the other about 50. He started bussing tables until things died down.
When he came back to eat on another day, Christodoulakis had heard about his kindness.
"He said, 'Come over here,' and tried to give me some money," Nidal said. He wouldn't accept the money, and Christodoulakis knew he wanted someone like Nidal working for him, so Nidal started as manager.
"I look forward to coming to work," Nidal said. "It's the people place.
"The night is different from the day," he continued. "During the day I have professional people – top of the city people – doctors (and) judges. At night I have hookers, pimps, drug dealers – name it, you get it. I get students, people just going home. I enjoy working with these people."
But he does make the distinction that at night, though people aren't themselves because of the fuzziness of insobriety, "There's no noses up in the air."
2:35 a.m. Monday
The red-eyed night owl menu
The televisions are all turned to "SportsCenter" by this time, and the night-owl menu is in effect.
The menu isn't much different except for the lack of specials, but the bill must be paid – plus a 15% gratuity – before receiving your food at this time of night.
Groups of friends and couples littered the restaurant and are waited on by the third-shift waitress and occasionally Bibi.
No Marquette students are present, but after bowling and consuming a few beers between this visit and the last to Michael's, we fit in with the buzzed vibe – more relaxed than close to a breaking point this night.
After I asked a man seated in the booth behind me if he would mind if I asked him a few questions, he asked, "Are you the police?"
He comes here to eat cheeseburgers when he is drunk, and tonight was no different.
Before he and his friend left the restaurant, they put almost every condiment available on the table (assorted jellies, steak sauce, sugars and creamers) into their to-go boxes.