You cannot tell by the expressions on the faces of these short-haired ladies, but they were truly in the presence of not only higher education, but higher decoration. So much is left to the imagination! Is that a tree on the left? If so, is this a Japanese painting of a willow tree at a stream? Is it prairie grass? Helter skelter? Kilroy was here? Is it simply the crayon chaos of a toddler? No matter. Patty, put more parmesan on the pizza.
These fellows presumably were denied the scrawled ambience of the former picture, but instead had a tableside jukebox. Or its it a phone? I can hardly tell.
Does this booth have a phone as well? Who were folks calling? Maybe in days of yore, before Instagramming your brunch, you called everyone you knew one by one, to describe the way the yolk ran out of the poach as your fork tine punctured it?
All I know is, this little frosh is eating away her cares with a nice serving of dessert! Sometimes it’s sad to be plaid.
I Don't Get It 
That joint appears to have both table side phones and juke boxes. Now that is swanky. What lovely hair in your header pic.
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Ah, yes!
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As a kid, I loved the diner juke boxes at the table. Three songs for a quarter. (Cue “What’s New Pussycat” skit)
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Nice!
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I recall the days when every table had its private juke box, Kerbey, but never have I ever seen diner tables each decked out with its own phone. No call is that important, but bopping to your omelet, maybe.
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How could you hear your own jukebox over all the jukeboxes that were just a few feet from you?
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Small speakers, like transistor radios, Kerbey. But that’s another story.
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