It was a dead night at Sak’s Truckstop Diner until a fight broke out over a pair of boxers.

Sak’s is one of Ellensburg’s 24-hour diners in the middle of the Flying J Travel Plaza just off of I-90 and Canyon Road. The football field-sized parking lot is consistently packed with trucks from noon to midnight and back to noon.

But most of the time, the diner is nearly empty; the truckers prefer to spend their time at the lot sleeping.

Business during the day is taken away by another diner across the lot. It’s nicer and newer but it closes at 10 p.m. and you can’t get toast and eggs there for $1.20.

The booths are a faded red leather and the tables have a shiny plastic sheen over the fake wood.

On a recent night, Sak’s was as quiet as ever. Bob, a grey haired guy in a veterans cap sits on a red vinyl stool at the four-person counter. In a corner booth, a trucker tucks into his omelet looking like he just wants to sleep.

It’s half past midnight when Bob finishes his third cup.

Laekin Dunoskovic, the third shift waitress is sweeping the tiled floor next to Bob. She’s in the universal diner waitress uniform with thick glasses and a shoulder-length dark-brown ponytail.

“Want more coffee, Bob?” she asks.

“Oh, yes please,” Bob says.

“So do I Bob, so do I,” Laekin replies, upbeat and energetic, especially for the third shift. She has a Big Gulp-sized coffee mug half empty at her station.

Laekin pours Bob another cup then settles down to eat her salad at one of the other nine tables the diner hosts.

The diner is quiet for the next half hour. The man in the corner leaves most of his omelet to go sleep in his van.

Shortly after, Mike walks in. He looks like he came straight from a biker club, bald and stocky with a long salt-and-pepper goatee. Mike is actually the lot manager and just arrived for his shift.

Mike has a tall but stocky build, with tattoos going up his arms and a gracefully balding head.

After checking in with all the staff, Mike sits down with Bob. They small-talk about the weather, but then Mike recounts a bizarre story.

In a bathroom area at the truckstop, an employee had found some boxers and other personal items lying around. Thinking they were abandoned, Mike’s subordinate threw them away.

But the owner of the boxers came back, furious, and began to berate the employee. Mike had just stepped out for a smoke where he heard the conflict.

Mike stepped back in and calmly told the angry patron he had to leave. Mike finished his cigarette while the patron stormed off.

“He huffed and puffed and walked away,” Mike tells Bob.

Mike watched the perp pacing at his car until he began walking back.

“The guy comes back and started wailing on me,” Mike said.

The man came back “like a bull,” and swung a left hook at Mike, which he easily dodged.

Despite being previously in the Marines, Mike didn’t swing back. The attempted assault was caught on the security cameras and Mike was worried he’d get in trouble for defending himself.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Mike says,  “so I didn’t fight back.”

Later when the owner spoke to Mike, she said he handled it well.

After the man realized that he was outmatched, he fled to his car while Mike ran into the diner and called the police.

The guy acted strangely as he was driving off. He slowly drove towards the lot exit before stopping at the propane tank for a minute.

Mike then stepped outside and the perp sped out of the lot and up an on-ramp to I-90 before reversing back down and heading down Main Street, where he was arrested shortly after.

“You’re making the story too long,” says a voice over Mike’s radio.

Mike pulls his radio up. “Why don’t you have a tall glass of shut up,” he replied jokingly before continuing his story.

The police contacted Mike afterwards to see if he wanted to press charges. Mike denied.

“I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath and court system,” Mike explains.

Then after a short conversation with Bob about coffee, Mike gets up to do a walk around the lot.

“Alright Boborino, I’ll see you later buddy,” Mike says as he leaves.

The diner is all but dead again until Laekin comes back with another round of coffee.

“Need more coffee Bob?” Laekin asks.

“Oh, no, I’m done,” Bob replies.

“I figured,” she said.

Bob gets up and puts on his flannel coat before stumbling to the register. He gets out the exact change in coins and leaves a kind tip.

“I hope you finish your dinner there Laekin,” says Bob as he walks out the door.

“Thanks Bob,” Laekin replies before turning to take her last bite of salad.