Yo quiero Casa de Waffle

So I walk into a Waffle House just outside of Columbus, Ohio on the drive from DC to Champaign, Illinois to visit Ray and Elisa, my friends who got married in Dallas.

Anyway, I walk into the Waffle House, and I go to sit down at the counter. There’s an old man, probably 85 or 90 years old, sitting a few chairs down from me, with a fairly thick southern accent.

Old Man: Yew shore yew wanna set there?

Me: Um, yes…

Old Man: ‘Cause I’m ornery.

Waitress: He ain’t kidding.

Me: Oh, I think I can handle myself.

Old Man: Heh heh…

Waitress: Now, Earl, be nice.

The fact that his name was Earl made it all the more perfect.

Waffle House: Go for the greasy hash browns (well, and the waffles), stay for the hilarious local color.

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