“I love the Izod outlet!” The man at the booth next to me says to his group of friends. When venturing up north in Michigan, a stop at the outlet mall is par for the summer vacation course. We like a deal. We also like a down home breakfast. This diner promises to deliver - “happiness is served daily” - I cross my fingers the signs are leading me in the right direction. Marilyn Monroe bends over a table in the far corner on a mirrored wall, her dress billowing up around her, while Elvis peers over her shoulder for a look. The server piles up three plates of eggs and hash browns on her arm, places them down over snippets of up-north chatter. I hear words like “mini golf” and “arcade” which instantly remind me of my experience at the Ramada Inn last night. I have a small tinge of nostalgic joy walking above a steaming indoor pool to get to my room, past a vibrating massage chair and what looks like a Frogger or Centipede video game cubby hole console. I take a picture and send it to some old friends. “Remember when?” I write. While this isn’t exactly my idea of a happy place any longer, it certainly beats the Holiday Inn’s $215 price tag. “Don’t you have a last-minute rate?” I ask. “Triple A?” I plead before I get onto Hotwire and search the area, eventually settling into my room down the road. For old times’ sake I take an ice bucket down the hall and fill it up, half expecting a crew from Stranger Things to appear around the corner. I don’t know why this space evokes what might be called “Bittersweet,” a feeling that Susan Cain explores in her new book. It’s a tugging, a longing, a looking over the shoulder. I think about this as my server places a small plate of rye toast on my table. It is cut into triangles and looks like a perfectly fine piece of plain toast. The feeling comes up again when I turn over a corner and find it buttered on the other side. “Of course it is,” I think, as Elvis flashes me a grin. #diner