“Wherever You Like Sweetie”

There’s this restaurant chain throughout the south called "The Waffle House". These little closet sized units serve, besides waffles, breakfasts of all types. I don’t even know if they serve sandwiches or any type of lunch but if they do they ought to be ashamed of themselves.

Walking into one of these hallways they call a restaurant I get a feeling of pure claustrophobia. Very tightly squeezed. There seem to be three or four employees working there and I’m told to sit “wherever you like sweetie”. Out of the six tables available, five still have dirty dishes on them and the last needs wiping down. I choose the one with no dishes. A look at the menu tells you they pride themselves on the way they make hash browns. You can get them plain, with cheese, with cheese and onions and with cheese onions and peppers. The waitress comes over and asks if I know what I’d like. Mind you the table is still dirty and it seems as if she has no intention of cleaning it.

I order the steak and eggs, the eggs over medium; I like to dip my toast into the yolk. . As I order I also ask for a cup of coffee and a dishtowel to wipe the table down with. As she leaves I start to read the paper and am surprised when she quickly returns with the coffee and towel. The best part of it is that she sets the coffee down, places my utensils wrapped in a napkin next to it and next to that, I kid you not, is the towel I asked for. As she leaves I can’t help but laugh. I’m just wondering if this is really happening. I commence wiping the table down and get it semi clean and set the towel at the edge of the table and continue to read the paper. I realize that most, if not all, people would get up and leave at this point but this is just too comical for me to leave. It’s like I can’t wait to see the end of this movie.

As she returned with my order I made a fascinating discovery. Did you know that you could make hard boiled eggs by frying them? Neither did I, however, these guys seem to have perfected the art. My eggs looked like little white blankets with a rubber ball inside. The steak? I wear insoles that look tastier. I’m not expecting a rib eye or anything like that but something that contains some sort of meat would be nice.

So I ate what I could and sat reading the paper for a while. Had a few refills of coffee and at one point the waitress asked if I was done with the dishrag that was still sitting on the table? Simply amazing. As she took it I couldn’t help but wonder if she found any of this odd or was this just a normal day at the “Waffle House?” Of course, me being who I am, I’ll have to come back and see. I think next time I’ll try the waffles.