Waffle House (Interlude 2)

Is it really 7:00 am?

Wow. I think I watched the first 2 minutes of the game last night. Then this morning came. Oddly, my usually sleepy roommates were ready to go as early as I was. This can mean only one thing: Return to the Waffle House.

Hell yes.

We tried to rally some other alums and assorted people we knew at the tournament, but to no avail. Apparently, instead of falling asleep in the early early evening and waking up int he early morning, they went out last night. Apparently. While trying to contact them, we realized that there was still beer in the fridge. We cracked 'em open and starting singing a couple bars of Roadhouse Blues. I can't imagine why.

When we return to the same Waffle House, the wait staff greets Paul with a hearty hello. He greets them enthusiastically. Seeming very happy to be remembered. About 10 minutes later it occurs to him that they just say hello to everyone when they walk in and that he had done nothing particularly memorable the morning before. Ouch.

This was the morning that I made a huge discovery. I thought about it last time we visited, but I didn't actually formulate the question for the waitress. This time, I came through. When it was my turn, I, like everyone else, ordered the All-Star Special. The key difference is that I managed to order the chocolate-chip pecan waffle. Unwilling to settle for either pecan or chocolate chip in my death-waffle, I explained to the waitress that I wanted both. She seemed a little surprised, but as she worked it out in her head, she knew it was the right choice. I could tell. Perfect. Let me tell you, that was the best fucking waffle I have ever eaten. Why? because with the cheap waffle-batter, chocolate chips, pecans and butter it tasted like a heavenly pastry of cardiac arrest. Wow. I was definitely set for breakfast.

Once again, we asked if we could purchase alcohol at this hour in the great state of Ohio. The answer was a resounding "Yes. But not the hard stuff." Awesome. Back to the BP and then back to the hotel to, uh... clean up. What followed was about 2 hours of hanging out in what would have been a completely inexplicable scene at that time on a Sunday morning to anyone we didn't know. I feel that the appropriate answer would have been "Well, what took you so long?" Reasonable minds may disagree.

On to the fields!