We were visiting my in-laws who live in a senior living center situated in a blue-collar Philly suburb. There are many diners around there and I had lunch at Bullard's – the most regular joe of the bunch. I sat at the end of the counter and just enjoyed the show, listening to all the regulars (who are all wearing at least one piece of Eagles gear) and the waitresses banter and give each other shit.
One regular (I know he is a regular because he knows everyone’s name), Ray, orders a plate he’s apparently never ordered before - a steak sandwich – no, not a cheesesteak sandwich even though he’s in Philly. A steak sandwich. He's giving the waitress, Fran, a detailed order about what should and should not be on the plate, how the steak should be cooked, how the food should be arranged.
He wants "the red sauce”. I did mention this is the most basic of diners. If you’re lucky, a diner like this has three “red” sauces – steak, hot, and ketchup. Apparently, what Ray wants is none of these. I have no idea what kind of joint he thinks he’s in, but it ain't this one. After several minutes of the waitresses trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about, he gives up and decides to just get it dry.
Eventually, Fran brings out the plate. All eyes are on Ray as he pokes and prods the food, waiting to see if it meets his specifications. Ray doesn't say anything, he just reaches down to pick up the sandwich and as he does, the guy next to me shouts "Hey Fran, my french fries are too big. They don't fit in my mouth."
And just like that, a new catchphrase is born.