No Waffling on This Issue

Today, I drove to Toledo, Ohio to go to the Waffle House. That one is the closest to where I live, and it's about a two and a half hour drive. It was worth it, though, because you just can't get this kind of food at the IHOP or Denny's, even though they come close.

That, and I just like the kind of low-key atmosphere at the Waffle House. It's like a truck stop, but without all the truckers. The waitresses call you "hon" and greet you as such when you walk in.

I walked in and got called "hon". It was swell.

Then I saw the menu, and swell became paradise. I ordered me up a whole bunch of the deliciousness. The waitress delivered it piping hot to my table faster than I would have thought possible given the care with which it was prepared.

"I'm sorry, hon, but I didn't ask if you wanted mayonnaise with that! Here's a couple of packets," she said, dropping the silver tubes of hatred onto my table. They landed like two vulture turds, hitting the table with a dull splat. The jukebox stuttered twice before the music died altogether and even the air in the building seemed to stop moving.

"But...but Craig likes mayonnaise," I muttered.

So yeah. Great. Now I can never go back to the Waffle House.