There's no better way to check the pulse of a town than to sit for a while in one of its diners. You hear the news, trade a little gossip and see how people from all walks of life come together when -- and where -- status is irrelevant. Taking a seat at the Denver Diner's long counter is a democratizing experience; you never know who might be on the next stool. Construction workers and councilmembers, bums and bus drivers: All men (and women) are created equal here. They all receive the same polite but hurried service and the same solid grub from a short-order kitchen that makes everything hot, fast and greasy, just the way it should be. The coffee is strong and plentiful; the chicken-fried steak is crisp, salty and veiled in wonderful, artery-clogging white country gravy; and the breakfast burrito smothered in green chile meal is enough for two. Whether you're dropping in for a quick cuppa joe with the morning paper, a big plate of fries to help you sober up on a Saturday night, or a discussion of the liberal Zionist media conspiracy with a total stranger, there's always room for you at the Denver Diner.