"Excuse me sir, can I have a bit of waffle with my chocolate chips, please??"
Who am I kidding? Those waffles were one huge plate full of chocolate covered goodness. And, frankly, I couldn't imagine a better way to end a twelve hour shift at work, than an evening (morning?) at the local Waffle House.
A potpourri of guests come and go in between cups of strong Jo. And as we notice that older gentleman in the orange cap, tall socks, and bright Hawaiian shirt is dancing to Adele in the corner, we come to the conclusion that we might be the only sober ones eating breakfast, at this time of evening.
Where the eggs are sizzling, the jukebox is blaring, and all of the crazies come out of the woodwork.
Yep. That's my kind of dinner time!