3. You want to cry. Or laugh. Or most likely, eat. You've ordered your very first Fatted Calf Burger, and joined the exclusive club that has existed since 1966. Breathe out a sigh of relief, and if there's any air left, whisper to us that you want our legendary steak fries. Or maybe onion rings. We'll most likely just point at the warming tray where we place them hot and steaming. Don't want us to know you're a first-timer? Just go ahead and take your fries and put them on your tray. Move along in line – If it's a busy lunchtime, chances are good that your burger will be ready before you check out. Otherwise, we'll bring your burger out to you after you sit down. (Hello – isn't that what "Cooked to order" means?)

4. Order your Drinks – fountain sodas, beer, plus some fancy-schmancy stuff like Pinot Noir for those who like to think they're dining on real china. But remember - this is the Fatted Calf – where tradition, family, soft cheddar and the world's best burgers are proudly served in paper baskets, 'cuz we got rid of the plastic baskets long ago.

5. Sit down. And no – we're not going to help you find a seat. We've got a ton of tables – all real wood and all dating back to our roots in the 60's. Enjoy your air a little thinner? Sit at our tall tables with stools, and even though you'll look down on everyone else, we know in our hearts that, deep down inside, all Fatted Calf burger lovers are the same. During your short wait at the table, just try to sit there and not eat a fry . . . or two, or more. Yum. Your food is on the way. The second it comes off the flame and grill, we whisk it away to you and plop it down so you can eat it hot and fresh. Enjoy! (condiments are on the carts located on the same wall as the drinking fountain – bring your burger and fix it up there.) And exit through the opposite door from whence you came. Okay, be a rule breaker – and try to leave through the same door you came through. Ha! No handle. Next time you'll know – and there will be a next time, after our sweet Fatted Calf burgers come to you in your daydreams, and just before lunch . . .