I’ll go ahead and admit it: I love Waffle House. I’m not sure what it is about that grease pit, but I can’t get enough of their pecan waffles with a side of bacon and cheesy eggs. Ok, who am I kidding? I get the grits and the toast, too. But even if you don’t rank breakfast foods right up there with having one remote control that operates three different electronic devices, you can still appreciate the eclectic slice of humanity that such an establishment offers. I was halfway through my second quadrant of Belgian goodness when just such an opportunity presented itself.
“Would you look at that?” Carla the waitress stood with a coffee pot in one hand, surveying the monster truck that rolled into the parking lot. “Can you believe that anyone would drive such a thing?”
“Good grief,” her co-worker Sandra responded. “And look at that. He’s got a woman in there with him! You’d never see me in one of those things. They’re just so tacky,” she said, while shoving a pen into bleached hair with two-inch roots.
“Me neither. I bet she needs a ladder just to get in and out of it. Let’s see if she has to jump.” They both positioned themselves for a good view and hooted as the passenger dismounted.
“She nearly broke her neck!”
“No way she could do that in heels.”
“Just another dumb redneck and his trailer park ride.”
Suddenly the door opened and the driver of the monster truck and his date entered the restaurant.
“Good morning!” Carla sang, showing enough teeth to qualify for a Crest commercial. “Just have a seat anywhere you like. We were just talking about that truck of yours and how much fun it must be to drive.”
“Yep,” Sandra affirmed, “that is one impressive vehicle. You must be really proud.”
“I like it,” the driver modestly replied.
“But it is a pill to have to climb in and out of it,” his lady friend added.
“Oh, I can just imagine,” Carla said. “But you did it so gracefully. Coffee?”
As I polished off my meal and then paid my bill, I tried to creep out the door as unobtrusively as possible. No telling what they’d say about my little Corolla with the array of love bug corpses across the front.
© 2014 – Traci Carver