Showing posts with label Waffle House. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Waffle House. Show all posts

Friday, March 11, 2022

Breakfast Duelists

Having made fantastic time on my trip to Electric Eel yesterday (Electric Eel: for all your drain and sewer cleaning needs) I decided that I could treat myself to a sit down if inexpensive breakfast. So as I approached the north end of Bellefontaine, Ohio and spied a Waffle House, I parked and went in to eat.

The waitress soon poured and then refilled my coffee before setting my meal in front of me. I dug in.

A couple of minutes later, I sensed her presence. I looked up. We locked eyes as I was about to consume a mouthful of eggs. I heard the eerie, echoing, haunting refrain from Hang 'em High. Her raised eyebrow clearly said, "Draw!"

I set the eggs back on my plate and pretended to check a message on my cell phone which lay on the table next to my breakfast. Her attention was then taken by a couple at a nearby booth.

Raising a piece of bacon to my lips apparently set her spider sense to tingling. As she turned to look at me, in a circular motion I set the bacon down and put the phone to my ear. I hoped she would think I had a call and the ringer was on silent. She went back to work.

A minute later she was behind the counter, staring at me. I put some jam on toast. The triangular end of it was nearly in my mouth; her mouth opened to speak. But I set the bread down, making as though to rub a crick in my neck. She picked up a glass, wiping it out with a towel. We eyed one another closely. This was becoming quite the war of wills.

The waitress turned to face the cook, to give him an order. This, I thought, was my chance. I shoved a forkful of hash browns into my mouth. Yet the Force was strong in this one. She wheeled around and fired at me, "So-how-is-your-breakfast-so-far?"

"Urr, ugh, ah, ehh, um-hmmm," I responded, giving a thumbs up as I desperately tried to chew and swallow that bite of food.

I paid my bill and left a decent gratuity. I tipped my hat to her as I left. Well played, milady. Well played.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Small town America

This is Marty Cosgriff reporting from Corydon, Indiana.

Corydon is a quaint, small town indicative of middle America. There are many clues of course which let you know when you are in small town America.

First, there is a Waffle House. It is located conveniently across the road from the WalMart.

There is a gun shop. It has been advertised for miles along Interstate 64.

There are a ring of motels and fast food restaurants right on the exit to town. The motels and peasant eateries are here because there is something tourist trappy somewhere near Corydon. I believe that it is Corydon's proximity to a bridge across the Ohio River into Kentucky.

And, of course, there is a Tractor Supply. For all your John Deere needs.

This intrepid reporter found adequate sustenance at Arby's. The gyros were two for one. The one sits in his in-room refrigerator anticipating becoming breakfast.

This has been Marty Cosgriff reporting from Corydon, Indiana.