Setting: Amarillo Texas. 3 AM. It's snowing and I'm wearing
a sun dress.
Hunger pangs hitting my hollow tummy.
I decide that given the lack of food
options and a broken hotel vending machine, my options are starve, or face
"Fern" the nearly toothless 50 something year old waitress at the local Waffle House.
Time has not been good to Fern. Her face and fingers
are stained with tobacco from one too many nights of Marlboro reds, Banquet TV
dinners and prayers over this week's lotto numbers. She asks me what I would
like, inserting a variety of "huns" in between her toothless
grins.
I request water.
Salivating over the existence of a menu and the possibility
of consuming anything that remotely resembles food, I immediately begin
spouting off $40 dollars worth of sub-par side dishes.
Fern's eyes open as wide as a baby wallaby.
It's undeniable that she has wished long and hard for a
20-something fatty to come into her diner at 3 AM and give her what will
undoubtedly be the largest tip of her career.
Maybe now she can afford those nice Ed Hardy air fresheners
everyone keeps talking about.
When the food arrives, my dismay floods the room like a
tsunami of shattered dreams. As I immediately question once more whether
starving is still an option, I decide that there are likely far worse things
than eating canned mushrooms smothered in velveeta (maybe) and chow down. Nearly
filled to the brim, I swiftly move to the pièce de rèsistance... Cheese
smothered hash browns.
Reluctant, but still hungry, I begin to inspect my food. As I lift the seemingly crunchy portion of the hash browns,
I notice a dark blob peeking out from under my food.
"What? What the fuck is this shit?" I think
to myself as I choose to further investigate.
As it turns out, a vital component of "Hash browns with
delux cheese sauce" is short order cook cigarette ashes.
I pay my check, tip toothless Fern, and leave behind what is
likely the saddest restaurant diner in America.
I have never been hungry enough to eat at a Waffle House again.