Friday morning after leaving a local bar where Mr. Ainsworth played, I had this brilliant idea. Let's go to Waffle House! 'Cause where else do you go at 2:30ish, right? So reluctantly, E, who is vegetarian and M, who had never been to one, came along. It was a traumatic experience. Now the first Waffle House was built in the 1950s and this one had to be built like two years later. The original decor is still in place--it was all brown and orange. I've been to my share of Waffle Houses (I'm not bragging; I know this isn't a good thing.) but I've never been to one that was so poorly lit, unkempt and down right creepy.
Walking in to this place was like an episode of the Outer Limits. I kept waiting for something to happen. I was sure the waitress (and I use that term lightly) was going to knife us. Us being me. I was in a really silly mood and was seriously giggly. I was brave though because I was sure all the grease and fat from the grill would have been on the knife she used...my cut would have clotted quickly, like an instant bandage. Anyway, she took our orders while taking a break from eye rolling. Of course, I had a question and asked the difference between a regular waffle and the new light waffle. She made this face, shrugged her shoulders and told me she didn't know. But let me clarify, it seemed more like "I don't know, bitch. You want something or not?" I didn't ask anything else. I mean she had a greasy knife somewhere.
Meanwhile, E spent the most of the time staring at the disgusting grill area. I'm sure she had nightmares about it. And M was just being nice. I'm sure I won't be allowed to pick a place again. LOL.