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.