LavanyaChellam, Editorials Editor
HannahKornegay, Staff Reporter
MatthewKohn, Staff Reporter
After a rather large dinner, I thought I’d gone to bed full. However as I slept, I was tantalized by the thought of the waffles only a mile down the road. As soon as my morning alarm went off, I threw the covers away from my legs and immediately rushed out of the house. I was in a such hurry for waffles that I ran two stop lights and almost hit a baby crossing the street before turning into the parking lot of my favorite guilty pleasure. I left the keys in the ignition and burst through the Waffle House doors.
I was immediately hit with the bountiful aroma of pancakes and the cacophony of idle chatter mixed with the sizzle of bacon on the grill, was music to my ears. As one loyal customer put it, “Waffle House is like a family and everyone knows your name. The food comes secondary to the atmosphere.” While this may have been the case for her, it was my morning routine, and I was glad to live each day just for my waffles. As I walked past the playing children and blaring music, I quickly found my seat, eager to order. Good ol’ Suzy Stacks–waitress and my personal breakfast advisor, claimed she “doesn’t eat waffles” and prefers “to eat at home” when asked what she recommends on the menu. It didn’t matter to me I already knew exactly what I wanted.
Not even needing my menu, I cited my order containing three waffles and two scrambled eggs. Then, the four words I thought I would never hear. We’re out of waffles. My whole day revolved around this meal. Without these waffles, there is no chance I can get through the rest of the day.