There are plenty of romantic locations around LA, but DuPar’s is a strange place for canoodling.
The waiter points this out to the teenagers sitting at the next booth, their lips locked, pancakes untouched.
“Maybe you should go somewhere more private,” he says.
The waiter leaves the check.
“What a jerk,” the girl says.
“Yeah,” the boy agrees.
The make out session resumes.
“Good luck getting them out of there,” I say to the waiter as I leave.
“Some people just can’t control themselves,” he says.
I know what he means. It took every ounce of self control I have not to order a full stack and a side of bacon.