The Breakfast King is everything that a rust-belt boy, a trucker's son, an aficionado of greasy spoons or anyone with a little blue in his collar could hope for in a diner. First and foremost, it's open 24/7. Second, the waitresses know how to treat a regular and how to make those who aren't regulars feel like one anyway. Third, the place is ugly in exactly the way you want it to be when sinking into a booth on a Friday at midnight or early on a Sunday morning. With its orange-on-orange color scheme, straight-'70s wood paneling and white-polyester Coffee Angel waitress uniforms, the King is a working-class Neverland for diner junkies -- where time has been stopped for the last thirty years, and no one who doesn't want to grow up ever has to.