She sits next to some of her customers — one of the few times she’s not going to be on her feet tonight — flips out her pad and asks what she can bring them. Though posters on the walls boast some interesting specials — Fried Chicken Gizzards, for example — they opt for something a little more tame.

Hash browns. Bacon omelet. Biscuits. Coffee.

That’s a fairly normal order for Jessie Liebenguth, an ISU student who works the graveyard shift at the Cyclone Auto-Truck Plaza, 1811 S. Dayton Ave., Friday nights. It’s 1:30 a.m. now and some of the bar rush has already started to arrive. Jessie’s been here since 10 p.m., and she’s not leaving till 7 in the morning.

That gives her the weekend to recuperate, but being up all night in Ames can make attending courses a little rough for the sprightly redhead who somehow blends right in with the mix blend of customers who frequent the truck stop.

‘She handles the drunk people very well’

There’s another party at Ruby Ridge, a place both the waitresses working are familiar with, as it sends handfuls of people into the truck stop. A few hours into her shift, Jessie is already handling three tables of Ruby Ridge partiers.

They’re rowdy, yelling about their thoughts on whether Larry Eustachy (one proclaims proudly, “the rally kicked ass”) should be fired and warning other customers not to order “the special.”

“We were really, really looking forward to ordering the special,” yells Matthew Niemann, freshman in industrial engineering. “The special,” however, does not really exist, unless perhaps Niemann is referring to some of the more unique items on the menu, such as the Garbage Basket, which is a whopping six cheese balls, three poppers, two cheese sticks, four garlic shrooms, six “smiley” fries and three chicken nuggets.

Their orders aren’t the most extreme Jessie’s seen. She recounts one regular who requests basted eggs, poured into a glass of milk, poured over toast, a concoction Jessie wrinkles her nose at. “It looks like snot,” says the junior in horticulture.

When the 11 Ruby Ridge folks get too out of hand, Jessie playfully yells at them to quiet down. Some of them are new to the truck stop, but none complain about the service, despite the hour and the influx of customers.

“At Perkins you have to wait forever,” says Josh Schuler, freshman in exercise and sport science. But not with Jessie, who is responsible for waiting on half of the restaurant, while her friend Joni Lawr deals with the other half.

She’s no pro just yet, but she does fake a tear when she announces that this is her six-month anniversary of waiting tables at the truck stop.

“She handles the drunk people very well,” says Bradley Petersen, freshman in agricultural systems technology. “She brought exactly what I ordered.”

Through a film of smoke

Joni plays with three packs of cigarettes and waves at some of her regulars from the back of the smoking section during a break.

The mix of customers at the truck stop includes lots of ISU students and some other regulars. Joni starts to rattle off a few, but says there are too many to list: “Hot Pre-Vet Med Guy, Sugarplum, Artist Matt, Wrestler Joe.”

“That’s all I see here is regulars,” she says. “My day goes by what time each regular comes in.”

Truck stop customers can light up all day long, as the truck stop escapes the grasp of the Ames smoking ordinance, which limits the hours and locations indoor smoking is allowed. Joni says she can go through two packs a night at times.

Jessie sits down for one of her self-proclaimed “three-second breaks,” and, two seconds later, a customer asks for another drink, and off Jessie goes.

Four nights a week, Joni can be found working the graveyard shift at the truck stop, and it shows — almost every customer points her out and says, “She’s the one we always see in here.”

Joni is enrolling in ISU summer courses and is worried about finding a schedule that fits. But rather than seeking late-afternoon courses, she says she wants morning ones. That could mean Joni would clock in at 10 Sunday night, work till 6 Monday morning, then head into a full day of courses.

“I love waiting tables,” Joni says, even after telling a story about having to wipe the smoke film from her eyes when her shift ends.

Jessie sits next to a group of four ISU students, one who slaps her on the ass. She’s a regular whose roommate works at the truck stop as well, but doesn’t do the graveyard shift. Jessie admits that kind of horseplay, if it looks like she favors one set of customers over another, could potentially land her in hot water.

“People that come to the truck stop are very sensitive and easily injured,” she explains sarcastically. But it’s the kind of dry wit that gets her through the scenes that can be witnessed at a truck stop at 4 in the morning.

Minutes later, a rambunctious group of customers pass by the window. They begin rapping on the window at two of the guys pretend to start mating with one another.

Jessie takes it in stride. “Did you see that, too?” she asks the customers in the smoking section.

She’s happy when they confirm it was not just a hallucination from being on her feet all night and morning.

“Um … that was odd,” she says as she brings a pot of coffee to some customers. She shrugs it off.

When things get out of hand for Joni, she says she either pulls in the help of one of the cooks or presents a pot of hot coffee. “[I say,] ‘See this pot of coffee? It’s going in your lap if you don’t knock it off,’ ” Joni jokes.

As Jessie and Joni recount some other stories, a customer calls for their attention, in need of more coffee. They jump up — one to check out “Sugarplum” at the register, the other to help the customer in need.

“I’ll forgive you,” the customer yells back.

Heading home

The night ends for Jessie at 6 a.m., but she and Joni still have some extra work to do counting the cash in the registers.

The night’s been busy — it hasn’t offered either of them a great deal of “three-second breaks,” which Jessie said she likes to spend breathing in smoke.

Jessie, like all of the customers, has her favorite items on the menu. Lately, she’s been craving chicken nuggets and gold sauce, a mix of barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Her least favorite thing to serve is the “log of fish,” an idea that, she admits, sort of disgusts her. Luckily, no one’s ordered the log tonight.

At 3:30 a.m. Jessie is still going strong, busing tables while waiting for fresh customers to stop in. The rush of customers hasn’t fazed her.

“It was worse after the Billy Joel concert,” she recalls. Partly to blame for this night’s rush is the party at Ruby Ridge. “They just keep coming,” Jessie says.

But it’s been more interesting than a weeknight, when Joni works the night shift. On those nights, she says, she’s constantly on break.

“Where else can you go and get sexually harassed and paid for it?” Joni jokes. “[There’s just] lots of interesting people.”

Jessie’s going to be in again the following night, but she’s only working till 9 p.m., then plans on taking off. to The Garden, a gay dance club in Des Moines, to attend a friend’s graduation party.

That’s the kind of courage required of a Cyclone Auto-Truck Plaza graveyard shift waitress — she’ll be on her feet for eight to nine hours when most of Ames is sleeping, then take off for a regular night of college-kid fun.

She’d only been to the truck stop once before applying for the job, and that was to check her oil. But now Jessie finds herself in the joint when she’s not working the crowd, to sit smoking and enjoy an omelet or chicken nuggets … anything but the log o’ fish.

She’s not worried about being able to handle the shift and stick to her coursework, however.

“Oh … I’m going to be a little tired at 7,” says the waitress of not going home until the sun comes up.