Scattered, Smothered and Covered, Seaside

Reflections from a Waffle House with a view

“Can I get you anything else right now?” The waitress, Holly, hovered nearby. I was the only customer there. The laminated menu/placemat hadn’t budged; the order was set in stone before I left the hotel. The streak of syrup across the table was more than excused—expected, even. The plate before me offered a culinary comfort, the glass of tea magically refilled every time I looked up.

I’ve had many meals at many Waffle Houses. I even know my normal order by heart, as it’s called to the grill operator: Pull one, half bacon. Bacon Texas Cheesesteak plate, scattered, smothered, covered. Mom managed a Waffle House years ago; there were times when if I wanted a Mom-cooked-meal, it was served on a Waffle House plate.

I don’t eat from the WaHo nearly as much as I did then—for that, my doctors are grateful.

It dosesn’t happen often, but occasionally I get layovers in markets where there’s that signature yellow-and-black branding, and the siren call is strong.

Greetings from Biloxi, Mississippi. For years I’ve flown into here, and recently the yellow diners along US Highway 90 have caught my eye when flying in. On this stretch of the Gulf coast, there’s a dining opportunity that I’ve never had before: Scattered, smothered and covered, seaside.

Looking out the window today, I scooped up my hashbrowns with a view of the waterfront, framed in live oaks sporting Spanish moss. My flight attendants were in the casinos, hoping to win big. The first officer was working out, and my afternoon stroll had ended at a half-cleaned booth with the beach view.

Snapping back to Holly’s question – “No, I’m good. I’ve eaten at a lot of Waffle Houses before. This is the first one I’ve visited with a beach view. I’m just kinda taking it all in.”

Holly waved across the dining room. “The place is all yours. No rush. We’re glad to have you here.”

As I sipped my tea, I decompressed a bit. In the last few days, I’d held while dodging weather, narrowly missed a lightning strike, been significantly delayed getting to my layovers for two nights in a row, refused my first airplane as captain for maintenance issues, called out fatigued, been rerouted, and finally landed with enough time on a layover to get out for a few hours before bedtime.

I probably should have tipped a little more. It was lunch and therapeutic release, all in one.