Economics 101: TNSTAAFL

With the country glued to the TV on Sunday afternoon, Denny's restaurant chain took the opportunity to run a simple commercial:

"Free Grand Slam for all Americans. Tuesday, February 3rd. 6am to 2pm."

It was perhaps the least expensive commercial to make, but it may have had the biggest consumer impact. The Monday evening news ran the story, and Facebook and Twitter statuses were abuzz with Tuesday morning Denny's plans.

Against our better judgment, my brother and I decided to join the masses this morning. Were we crazy? Yes. Did we have fun? Not really. But we did eat for free.

We arrived at at the Burbank Airport Denny's at 10:15am and immediately joined a line of approximately 50 people snaking out into the parking lot. The general consensus was that we were standing in line to sign in with the host. After about 20 minutes standing still, I maneuvered up to the front desk where the manager promptly added my name to a list of waiting parties 2.5 pages long.

It seemed those in the outside portion of the line were actually in line for nothing, as those inside were waiting to be seated. A mad rush ensued- the "line" broke up as those who had been waiting for 20, 30, 40 minutes realized they had made absolutely no progress towards free food. I tried to make myself small so as not to get run over in a Wal-Mart/Black Friday type incident.

With the phone ringing off the hook, we stood. We waited. We tried not to inhale the acrid bongwater smell permeating the lobby. Visions of steaming hot coffee danced in my head.

A mere 46 minutes later, we were called. The manager pointed us in the direction of a table and we made our way from there. No menus. No silverware. Our frazzled waitress arrived seeking the answers to two questions: "What do you want to drink, and how do you want your eggs?"

Five minutes later my steaming hot coffee was haphazardly thrown across the table, sloshing over the sides as it went. Thinking there probably wouldn't be an opportunity for a refill, I savored each sip of that delicious brew as we waited for our microwaved pancakes to arrive.

The food...I mean, it was Denny's. I didn't eat it all, and neither did my brother. But that's not really why we came. We came for the experience. We enjoyed the shared feeling of guilty excitement over dining free in the worst economy since the Great Depression. When our $4 bill arrived, our waitress kindly requested that we pay her directly, as she'd had four walk-outs already.

Though I'll probably never visit a Denny's again, it appears the restaurant chain may have hit a Grand Slam of their own. By the time we left, the line outside had doubled, and message boards are awash with breakfast tales of survival and joy.