7pm, laid down to take a nap before attending the 40th birthday party of a friend.. 9pm – peepers opened.. “eh, justa nuther 30 minutes – it’s all good.”
Woke up at 1am. Crap. Stir crazy – some boring Sci-Fi (Sorry – hate ‘em) movie on the tube.. batteries needed in remote.. to GD lazy to get up and change channel.. didn’t wanna watch it anyways.
Sausage. Craving sausage. Ok, it’s now 2am – Waffle House only choice. (One Christmas – being the only one left from nuclear family – Waffle House was the place for me… I left a bigass tip – and everyone was friendly as hell… and THEY were at work on Christmas..)
So I pull in… use my little arm weight thingys to block my tires so we don’t roll away and purchase a GD F350… Stories happened even before I got in the door.. Very good looking young couple en route to their car as I was entering.. “NO.. I’m not coming over to your house tonight.” I bet you males can’t guess which one said that? Hehe. Of course, he’d done/said something really rotten earlier in the night – and he is being (close your ears) “pussy punished” for at least this night – who knows, she looked pretty pissed.. .mebbe a week.
So – I chuckle inwardly, walk in and take my seat betweengst the 20-something crowd of drunks – and the 40-something crowd of drunks.. “Don’t piss her off man.. .she’ll spit in your food.” “You don’t need to eat any more you fatass.” “I ohrderhed ahll you can eat.. and bahy god I’m ghonna eat all I can eat – WAITRESS.. twho more eggs.. ohver easy please..”
Three offensive lineman/farmers from some hick school up North walk in with their quarterback looking Matthew Broderick… a good chance for me to see from the other side… No matter what, things are readily more entertaining to 2am Waffle House customers… They start with a smile.. They laugh all the way through… and leave with the energy that spouts “GD I’m gonna sleep until 2pm..” Everything was funny to “Matthew”… He was a red-faced, happy drunk, but he looked to be one smartass comment away from getting in a fight as he knew the three offensive tackles would protect him…
Three, count ‘em, three different people stumbled to their car.. only to find them return five minutes later to collect their cell phone, purse, or whatever it was they’d left at WH.
With the large crowd – and the hurried pace of the more than patient behind the counter crew – there was no time to clean – and there was enough food on the floor by the stove to feed two homeless people. Ya gotta love 2am at Waffle House.
Several pairs of gents made their way in… Young punks. The way I figured it – they were thinkin’ “Aw crap, we didn’t get lucky tonight… let’s go get some eats.” And they all smiled, conversed… gobbled and went home.
The forty-something crowd numbered four chicks, two males. As onea the females paid and made her way out – onea the offensive lineman noticed her provocative – no bra top --- pretty face.. and struck up a conversation.. teasingly ending it with “ok… tell him you’re going home with us tonight” and proceeded to make a fist, crank his arm up and down in the air.. victory. (They were joshing.. she had zilcho interest.. but.. with great certainty looked in the mirror at herself on Sunday and thought “you know.. maybe you aren’t so bad.. some snotnose tried to pickup on you last night.”
All-in-all.. most weren’t as drunk as what I thought I’d see.. Nothing remotely resembling a fight happened (well, ceptin’ the dude on the way out that for sure wasn’t gonna get laid by his girlfriend)…
No matter… you gotta love Waffle House… May your day be scattered, smothered and covered – or, exactly how you’d like it. Love, Victurd.
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