The weekend that was, or High drama at the Waffle House

19 Mar

I rather liked my weekend and hate to let it go. I guess there’s really no way to hang on to it so I might as well embrace Monday.

C’mon, Monday–give us a big hug! Now–back off! (Monday has a terrible case of morning breath…)

Yesterday was the 33rd anniversary of the day I met my significant other. You know we had a big hoopty-do. On Friday, we both went to the doctor together. On Saturday, we filled our prescriptions together and then on Sunday it was off to Wal Mart for laxative shopping! (Let it be known the laxative was for him…I am regular as clockwork. Just sayin’…)

Ah, the gifts of a long term relationship just keep on giving.

I slept late on Saturday. The dog insisted I get up at 7am and take her for a walk. When we got back from said walk, we both crawled back into bed and I didn’t wake up again until 11:30am. This is almost unprecedented for me. I hadn’t even been drinking the night before. I liked this whole sleeping in thing. I could do that again real soon.

On Saturday night I attended an art/theater event. There was good food there too, so how could you go wrong?

Afterwards I went to the Waffle House with 2 friends. The Waffle House could easily be the setting for a play or a TV show. For one thing, they were ridiculously overstaffed. (Lots of characters!) I assume that is because we were a few hours from the closing of the bars, which would bring an onslaught of hungry, drunk people. Until that time, there were truly at least 3 to 4 employees for every customer in the place.

The staff was milling around, speaking loud and freely about whatever crossed their minds. The only man working there announced quite loudly, “We’re out of paper towels!”  No one responded, so the level of this crisis was difficult for me to gauge.

Our waitress was all dolled up for St. Patrick’s Day. She had a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” tie, green glitter shamrock drawn on her cheek, and antennae on her head with green shamrocks attached.

Suddenly, one of the waitresses said, “Who drives a black truck?” One of my friends said he did. “Someone just hit you!” As the staff of the Waffle House didn’t have much else to do, several went running out the door–including our waitress. My friend followed. Everyone tried to flag down the white van that had side swiped my friend’s truck.

Apparently the van driver decided it would be better if he just kept on going. He may have been drunk, or he may have had a warrant he didn’t want to deal with if the police came, or he may have been terrified of the large black lady with the shamrock antenna and the Kiss Me I’m Irish tie, running at him, waving her arms and shouting, “Hey! Hey! Stop!” in his general direction.

If the driver of that van had consumed enough green beer that day (and I have a hunch that he had) no telling what he thought he was seeing when he saw this shouting person running his way.

Anyway, he took off.

Then the drama kicked into high gear. A cab driver pulled up. He had followed the van for a while. He was calling the police. It was unclear if anyone had gotten the entire tag number. Our waitress had a portion of it. Possibly the cab driver had a portion of it. It was like a low budget DaVinci Code kind of a thing.

All of the not otherwise engaged employees of the Waffle House were milling around talking about it. Then one of them announced a Lincoln town car had just blow a front tire. “If it ain’t one thing it’s another!” she announced.

Truer words were never spoken.

The police came and my friend filed a report. The women of Waffle House lined up to give their version of events.

I do not think I would like to work at the Waffle House. But perhaps I should spend some late nights loitering there. Nursing a BLT and a cup of coffee while taking in the mise en scene. There’s material there, to be sure.

Frankly, I am surprised there is not already a reality series set at the Waffle House. If someone steals that idea, remember you heard it here first.

You can see why I’d want to hold on to my weekend. You can’t plan entertainment like that. That’s a natural fact.

Being Monday and being my job, there is no guarantee my day will be drama free. Hopefully it will be free of hit and runs. And everyone needs to pack up the shamrocks until next year.

Same goes for the green beer.

Happy Monday

3 Responses to “The weekend that was, or High drama at the Waffle House”

  1. Mary Atwood March 19, 2012 at 6:49 am #

    Never let it be said that we don’t know how to party!

  2. Gay Groom March 19, 2012 at 10:08 am #

    Waffle Houses aren’t actually made of waffles are they? That would be cool.

  3. Pamela N Red March 19, 2012 at 3:04 pm #

    Happy Monday and Happy Anniversary.

    Waffe Houses around here are pretty seedy and usually in rough parts of town.

    Any restaurant that stays open all night is guaranteed to have some interesting characters.

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