One slow night at the Waffle House it was just one waitress, the cook who was mopping the floor, and me.
Waitress: Hi honey…what can I get you?
Me: Guess I’ll have 2 poached eggs over dry toast.
Waitress: Okay….how do you want those cooked?
Me: Uh, well….that would be POACHED. (Then I questioned the cook) Do you know how to poach eggs?
Cook: Huh, uh….but can you tell me?
Which I did. And he did….and they weren’t half bad!
– Nancy E.
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I went to college in a small town where, aside from a smattering of college bars, they rolled up the sidewalks at 10 PM. So, like all good liberal arts majors, we hung out a lot at the Waffle House. A LOT. We were regulars.
One Saturday night I was there with two friends, nursing coffee and cigarettes after our 1 AM “dinner,” when our favorite waitress, Dawn, came over to our table.
“Y’all got anything to do right now?”
It was a quarter-to-two and we were at the Waffle House. No, we did not have anything to do. Continue reading
I was ordering a burger one night, around1:00 in the morning, and asked the waitress what kind of cheese they had. In that syrupy souther twang, the one that turns one syllable words into two or there or even four, she looked at me with no emotion and replied, “Sliced.”
When we lived years ago in Doraville, GA, there was (and still is) a Waffle House located immediately next to the railroad tracks that crossed Oakcliff Road and Northcrest Road off Interstate 85. Every once in a while, we’d see a sight that we thought would make a great TV commercial for promoting Waffle Houses.
The train would literally stop on the track behind the Waffle House and the engineer and other trainmen would step down from the train and walk into the Waffle House for food.
“Train Stopping Good Food” the ad could say.
Unbelievable as this seems, we saw it happen with our own eyes.