w w _W _W -IF V Vw w U- 6B -- The Michigan Daily - Thursday, November 4, 2004 The Michigan Dailv - ITh6IY 11it hiQn l ViIv SATURDAY MOE HOTSPOTS Saturday morning does not exist for many students. Save ambitious morning- person types, weekends tend to undergo a temporal shift that pushes morning into afternoon, allowing space for the sweet indulgence of sleeping in. But another type of indulgence - super-affordable shop- ping - is operating in Ann Arbor at, and only at, this cherished time. Some students are sacrificing their Saturday morning winks to join other "We like it hAre. 's wnite boom oox that also runcuons as a mirror. As he tries to sell this $5 item he explains that, a frequent shopper, he final- ly decided to sign on as a volunteer when he learned that the profits are donated. Adelaide Laetz is standing toward the back of the first floor, pricing an order. terms of giving b we're trying to g seniors in high s dents - interest some way in thei tomorrow, but d they'll look back ing with us and v The demogral changing along v ish and Korean r the general chat observes, "We I over the world. working at the t Fleetwood Diner's signature black and white decor contributes to its appeal with Ann Arborites. PETER SCHOTTENFELS/Daily Fleetwood Diner deemed landmark of A2 PETER SCHOTTENFELS/Daily Paul David eats a gyro at Ann Arbor's landmark restaurant, Fleetwood. "Welcome to the Fleetwood. The hippest little diner in the hippest little town in the Midwest. OK, so Ann Arbor's not so little." - Welcoming address on Fleetwood Diner menu By Bernie Nguyen Daily Arts Writer Downtown Ann Arbor presents dozens of fabulous places to shop, visit and dine at. If, however, you walk down East Liberty Street to South Ashley Street, you'll find something out of the ordinary. You'll see it perched on a sloping corner, the tiny Fleetwood Diner, a humble, unassuming building with stainless-steel siding and a striped awning. It's been here in Ann Arbor for years, a landmark of greasy-spoon splendor often passed by in favor of the more trendy, cosmopolitan restaurants. As you walk up the gray sidewalk, you'll see green plastic chairs and tables pushed up against the front of the diner, crowded in with laughing customers. More often than not there is a slumbering dog tied to the telephone pole a few feet in front of the door. When you enter the small space you're imme- diately reminded of a '50s diner; you almost expect to see girls in poodle skirts and ponytails sip- ping milkshakes. The floor is a scuffed black-and- white tile to match the chairs and tables. Loud stickers from Found Magazine and local bands cover the dim front wall. A low counter runs along one half of the diner where people sit, reading newspapers, boots resting on the raised floor while they wait for their food. Take a seat on a stool; the server will offer you a menu. Look around and soak in every image. Next to you the man in the dark brown shirt pushes his eggs around his plate. Curlicues of cigarette smoke fade into the fluorescent lights. The smell of grease and the constant hiss of the griddle stay low in the background as you observe the dif- ferent characters at each table. The old man in the corner talks to his companion, waving his hands and drawing faces under his old green Army cap while he smokes his cig- arette down to the filter, crushing it in the ashtray before taking a sip of his coffee. A man looks out the window, his hair tinted a deep red, wearing sunglasses, a leather coat and a wistful stare. The cook stays in constant motion, his spatula screeching across the griddle to flip another patty. It's as if time has slowed down. The young man behind the coun- ter seems too busy to, talk, even though it is only late afternoon. Fleetwood is open 24 hours; imag- ine how crowded it must be late at night, bustling with concertgo- ers and midnight wanderers look- ing for a hot cup of coffee. Take a look at the menu, which proclaims proudly "Welcome to the Fleet- wood. The hippest little diner in the hippest little town in the Mid- west. OK, so Ann Arbor's not so little." You'll see that Fleetwood's menu is nothing but diner food, pure and simple, priced very rea- sonably. There's a specialty, too - the Hippie Hash, a stack of homemade hash browns, grilled green peppers, onions, tomato, broccoli, and mushrooms, topped with melted feta cheese. "I think the Hippie Hash is great," says fel- low customer Claire Vanpoperin about the food. "I come here a couple times a month." Sit and watch for a while. Taste the food, sip your drink. Take your time. When you leave you'll be back in the real world, serenaded by cell phones and traffic. But you'll feel difference somehow, with a sense of that you've stumbled upon a relic. Not a particularly valuable one, perhaps, but something with its own gritty charm. The Fleetwood is anything but serene. It is brash and unashamed, worn at the edges and a little faded. It still sticks out, though, bringing some of Ann Arbor's most unusual clientele. Jason Jochems, sitting at a table with his hands cradling a cup of coffee, might put it best. People "just happen to randomly end up here. It's just one of those places that makes Ann Arbor feel like a real college town." Patrons, like Carrisa Wilder, seamh throug boxes and shelves of goods to find their perfect match at theweekly Kiwanis sale.