Laura and her Waffles

I'm a pretty huge fan of the Waffle House.

You can find me at the Waffle House at Merchants Drive in North Knoxville just about every weekend at some point, enjoying my usual steak & eggs with a side of heaven. My trips to the Waffle House are always interesting to some degree, but the adventure I experienced last Saturday was absolutely worth writing about.

Travis was behind the grill. This guy is a cooking machine, of course, a time-honored professional with lightning hands, tight braids kept neatly under his cook's hat and steady eyes like Bruce Willis from that movie where he drove a car across an asteroid with Steve Buscemi to save the planet.

He doesn't say much, even when spoken to, which is awesome when this waitress name Laura screams at him for any reason she can think of. Constantly.

Laura is, for lack of better words, a maniac. It's the awesome kind, though. Sort of.

I was sitting at the bar looking at the part of the menu that tells me that Waffle House cooks an egg every four seconds and a steak every six seconds and gives people a mean case of the shits every nine seconds (I think I dreamed that last figure, but I'm not sure), when I noticed a very sweet-looking Mennonite couple sitting directly across from me in a booth. The gentleman was wearing these really classic suspenders and his dining companion was wearing a long skirt with a nice bonnet. I smiled at them and noticed they were obviously very friendly.

Suddenly, my waitress Laura accidentally spilled some maple syrup on the floor and screamed, "Damn Travis, why don't you come clean this up for me? You clean up all the other shit in here!"

A statement like this doesn't bother me at all, of course... but I was nervous for the couple in the booth. I noticed that we were practically the only people in the entire restaurant at that time, if I don't count the creepy older lady in the back booths reading a magazine to herself. What would these kind folks think about this kind of profane outburst in the Waffle House? Normal stuff? Outrageous? I don't know about that one. For all I know, they could be avid subscribers to Hustler, frequents of The Mouse's Ear and lifetime members of the Andrew Dice Clay fan club.

...Probably not.

The most interesting thing here was Laura's boundaries. It seemed that when she'd get behind the counter, she believed that no one in the restaurant could hear her. When she stepped out on the floor, she'd go into friendly waitress mode. Even though the only thing separating her from the customers was a four-foot tall counter top, she acted as if it were a 10-foot-thick concrete, sound-proof wall. It was fascinating to me.

She'd scream at Travis, yelling for him to do this or that, and every time he'd just stare down at the grill, paying no attention to the hilarious taunts and screams. Sitcom, man. Sitcom.

When Travis finished up the couple's order, Laura took it out to them and with the most considerate, friendly tone you could imagine, served them their meal. She was walking back towards her invisible 10-foot-enclosed wall when I noticed the couple taking each others hands for a prayer. I really respect their dedication to their faith, so I sat silently with a smile as they bowed their heads. On the other hand... Laura took this opportunity to tell Travis how "that dude on third shift is such a dick because he ratted her out for smokin' during the busy hours after the Vols game," and how "if he don't shut his damn mouth, I'm gonna tell Kenny about how he likes to roll blunts in the parking lot on HIS smoke breaks."

Two words for Laura: "Geeeen iiiiiusss."

I was too embarrassed for the couple to glance over their way.

Seconds later, one of Laura's high school friends would walk through the door, causing a screaming, jumping, fit of insanity across the restaurant. This high school friend was with her little sister (who she'd later say was 12) and her niece (13). Laura took one look at the 12 year old and said (loudly), "I can't believe you're all grown up now... oh my God, you have boobs! Oh my God, your titties are bigger than mine, girl!!"

Again, I was laughing on the inside, sure, but still too embarrassed to glance over at the couple in the booth.

Just when you thought the hilarity was simmering down, High-School friend asks Laura what she's planning for the weekend, and Laura tells her (from across the restaurant) that she's "headin' down to Atlanta to get me some." This statement, to me, was just awesome. Poor Laura's internal editor was completely demolished, letting her most private of thoughts just poor out all over me and the rest of the customers like a horse jumping into one of those old-school collapsing plastic-walled swimming pools. Maybe she should start a blog like me, right?

Laura, of course, asks High-School Friend to come with her... and then proceeds to remind her "who'll be waiting for her down there."

Laura must have been using her mind-reading powers, because in my mind I was really wondering who the hell would be waiting for this girl... so, of course, she turned directly to me to tell me the story.

(Editor's note: Laura calls me "Jason Bourne" because when she asked me for my name, I refused to give it to her, saying that I had amnesia. She immediately said, "Oh you can't remember, huh? Just like Jason Bourne! Hell yeah!")

Apparently, High-School Friend has had an ongoing relationship with a 40-something-year-old man in Atlanta. As she explains this story in detail, the couple in the booth sits quietly, eating their hash browns. According to Laura, they met on the internet years ago, and maintained a very close relationship ever since. (They've never actually met in person, of course.) When the guy in Atlanta told her he was coming to see her... she was very excited about the prospect of getting laid by a 40-year-old Atlanta businessman, but it never happened. She cried herself to sleep that night, tossing in turning in her bed, until finally running downtown to rob a liquor store with a billy club. (I'm just kidding about that part... but damn, I wish it were true.)

Months later, High-School Friend would discover (through a set of circumstances too complicated to re-tell here) that this guy has been married with kids for more than 12 years.

I love Waffle House.

Eventually the couple in the booth left with smiles, the old lady in the back booth demanded another bun for her patty melt (since her current one was "burnt to hell"), I gave Laura a $2.00 tip for the nice conversation and Travis kept on doing his magic without saying a word. I can't wait 'till next weekend.

"Steak & Eggs, Medium over Medium Covered" for life,

-Jason Bourne