Stolen From Christine. Because it rawks.
'50s-style diner serves next generation of dreamers, schemers
Publication Northwest Herald
Date April 17, 2005
Section(s) Local News
By ALLISON L. SMITH
asmith@nwherald.com
The Steak 'n Shake on Randall Road in Lake in the Hills may seem a world
away from the city, but go there any night and you'll find an unlikely
collection of brash philosophers.
The throng of teens and 20-somethings scratch and rattle against the drone
of suburbia. In the midst of boxy retail mania, they carve a nocturnal
refuge - still young enough to spew unjaded odes to world peace and artistic
expression, not yet old enough to have the resources or job skills that
forge reality from ideas.
They've been gathering almost every night - some for a few weeks, many
several years - to smoke, drink coffee, rant, read, write, sing,
collaborate, and find and lose lovers.
They are the Steak 'n Shake regulars, crawling unapologetically from one red
vinyl booth to the next.
"We always have [great] conversations here," says Brandon Casimer, 20, who
comes every night he can get a ride. "The tangents are the best part."
Most of the regulars say they come to the '50s-style burger chain - itself a
chromatic tribute to the era of soda shop hang-outs - because they feel
welcome.
McHenry County does have other restaurants that are open all night, but most
have some expectations that customers will order food and stay in their
seats.
Jessica Berauer, 20, has worked at the Steak 'n Shake for nearly four years.
She says that between 9 p.m. and dawn, most orders consist of "tons and tons
and tons of coffee."
"People who work the later shift are young and can relate to the customers,"
she says. "They're not really in it for the tip money, like some older
servers at other places."
Casimer, for one, appreciates the chance to have a cup of joe and work on
creative projects without pressure to consume.
"I got kicked out of a place the other day for just drinking coffee," he
says. "That's never an issue here."
About 10:30 p.m. on a recent weekday, Casimer chain-smokes Camel Lights with
Anthony Elston, 20. Both guitar players, they have had a band in concept
mode for years.
"It's called Fhlip-Mohe," Casimer says. "It's all [kinds of] music. We don't
want it to have a genre."
When their waitress asks Casimer whether he's ready to order, he grins and
strokes his blond beard, saying, "Depends."
"I'm not working third [shift] tonight," the waitress responds.
The grin fades, and he nods, " OK. Water."
"No pop?"
"Nah. I'm broke."
Moments later, she brings him a soda. The grin returns.
Broke or breaking are perpetual states for most of the diner's regulars, a
few of them former Steak 'n Shake employees.
If they aren't doling tips on potential jobs or respectfully boasting their
newest gig, they're bashing the Washington fat cats for putting oil ahead of
the little guy.
Unemployed Casimer gets a line on a part-time security job at McHenry County
College from a veteran regular known as "Beef," who sports his MCC duds at
the diner after work.
On a rare night off his security post in a gated neighborhood, Nate
Langfeldt, 21, ends up at Steak 'n Shake. He's already hit two other spots,
hungry for recreation.
In a black trench coat and braided hemp necklace with a Kermit the Frog
medallion, Langfeldt offers a smooth hand slap.
"What'ya doin'?" Casimer says.
"Huntin', man," he says, rocking like a boxer ready to punch.
By his 11:15 p.m. arrival, the checkerboard café is packed with piercings
and bold dye-jobs.
Jessy Petersen, 18, waves off a cloud of smoke as she manages to focus on
her solitaire game in the heady hum. A girl nearby lolls a netted leg on the
lap of her lanky beau, himself distracted by the impromptu rap being waged
one seat over.
Langfeldt chats about his plan to fill the long hours in the security booth
with a marathon of Kevin Smith-directed movies. That reminds Casimer to tell
Elston about the progress of the animated TV pilot he's developing with a
friend. They've got storyboards laid out for two seasons already, he says.
"Oh, yeah, well you look like the type to do the 'Rugrats,'" Elston quips,
as they launch into caffeinated debate about "South Park" and other
satirical cartoons.
Elston has his own good news to share, other than the tickets he scored to
an Incubus concert.
For him, like practically everyone at Steak 'n Shake, affordable rent away
from the [pa]'rents is a chronic quest.
The Algonquin native is whiling away what he hopes to keep to a year-long
break from the University of Colorado, where he studies avant-garde film. He
announces he's got a foot in the door of a Zen Buddhist commune.
"Imagine waking up just to sit down and go back to sleep," Elston muses
about meditation, half teasing. "And they might give me odd jobs. Sounds
like the life, right?"
Hell yes my friends!!!
Roxie from teh chicago soundtrack. Kareoke is my new love. The
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