Daniel DeMoss

Here’s a little feature that I wrote about the Double Eagle Cafe in Ypsilanti back in 2006. Enjoy.

As you walk in you notice one thing first, there is no air conditioning in this small restaurant, and it is hot. “It’s gonna be hot this summer, bear with us, we don’t have air conditioning.” the waitress says to one of the patrons. She’s right; the heat of the summer day has made it almost stifling in the small dining room. With the front door propped open and ceiling fans spinning wildly, the small dining room hums with sound. The sun has set on Ypsilanti, but the heat remains.

The second thing you notice is the smell, French fry grease. “Wherever you want,” says the girl behind the counter as it becomes obvious that seating is self serve in this place. The color scheme is simple, dark green and off white. The paint looks fresh, but thick, as if it is the latest layer on top of years of different coats and colors; like layers of history. Like in many small restaurants, the grill, stove and refrigerators are situated on the right side of the place, not in the back. There are two large mirrors on either side in the front of the dining room. Etched into the mirror on the right is an eagle, on the left the face of a Native American. Symbols of the past and present, representing the Eastern Michigan University sports teams. If nothing else, this restaurant, situated at the southern edge of Eastern Michigan University’s campus, is very close to its patrons. The majority of the people that frequent the restaurant seem to be students. With their laptops and textbooks, there are times that the number of students makes the place look like a second campus library.

The Double Eagle Café draws a wide variety of people. Two men sit in the corner at a booth, one with longer dark hair, and the other balding with a goatee and trendy black-rimmed glasses. The dark haired one works on his laptop while the other plays on his PSP. Two other men sit at a small booth and talk. There is only one waitress working and she looks about 20 with medium length brown hair, done into two braids. The cook is short and stocky. The young waitress talks loudly to the cook about a melon that she bought before she went on her shift. An old African-American man slowly walks in the door and makes his way to the back of the restaurant to sit down. The waitress greets him as if he is an old friend and brings him a glass of water. They bicker playfully for a moment as he asks her for a cigarette. She gives him one. Another man walks in, a large African-American man. He orders some carryout. As he waits for his food he asks if the place has wireless internet. The young waitress responds by saying, “No, but we get it from the other buildings… We need to get it permanent, though. It’s kinda off and on.” The man pauses and says that he just moved in down the street. “That’s how it is at my place too, but at least I don’t have to buy internet.” This place exudes the spirit of a community that works hard. There seems to be an attitude of thankfulness, a belief that overlapping wireless networks are special blessings that float silently through the air. There’s also a certain form of community pride that is present in the Double Eagle. The small, two-page menu is adorned with artwork from patrons. On the bottom of the first page is a small line that reads, “Thanks for your patronage… let’s keep Cross Street alive!” These are things that you would never see in an Applebee’s or Chili’s. They would never be so forthcoming as to indicate to customers that the business district is slowly dying. The Double Eagle has a sense of simple honesty.

As the night wears on, a police car flashes its lights and sounds its siren as it drives by in front of the restaurant. The cook, waitress, and all of the people in the restaurant slowly head to the door to see “who got pulled over”. Everyone comes back after a minute and resume his or her business. The police siren seemed to be a welcome break from the monotonous hum of the restaurant… but it is now gone. The waitress pushes the “play” button on the CD player. The speakers on top of the Pepsi refrigerator boom loudly with early 90’s style hip hop. The high volume makes the music engulfing. It’s just loud enough that conversation is difficult. The few people at tables seem to welcome the musical interruption and raise their voices over it to talk.

Bumper stickers from many different countries adorn one section of the wall, a symbol of the diversity that is at the core of this place. A little farther down on that same wall hangs a black t-shirt that reads “Double Eagle Café”. It features an eagle with American and Albanian flags flying below. Many restaurants can make t-shirts but only a certain kind of restaurant can actually sell them. These restaurants are to their patrons as cult classics are to movie buffs. This place has an addictive quality about it for some. There’s something that calls them back, time after time.

People shouldn’t come to the Double Eagle looking for a quiet, sophisticated dinner, but then again, people shouldn’t come to Ypsilanti looking for a quiet, peaceful town. The Double Eagle is the kind of restaurant that you go to for two reasons, because it’s late at night, and because you always go there. The food is ok and the atmosphere is unique. Everyone is accepted. This place is one of a kind, like each of its patrons. It has character.

So if you happen to be wandering the streets of Ypsilanti on a hot summer night, and feel a bit hungry, whether for food or just for human interaction, you may want to make your way down Cross St. to the outskirts of campus, where the street lights cast long shadows and traffic signals silently change the color of the night. There you will find a place that exudes the spirit of Ypsilanti, a place that is known to many as the Double Eagle.

May 30, 2006