Grits, Naked Women, and Hairstylists...how's that for a hook?

In a Universe that is ever changing, it’s always been good to know that there are a few constants. You know, those few things that you can always count on.
 
For me, one of those things has always been Waffle House restaurants. The first one I ever visited was the old Waffle House located – literally – under the Mississippi River Bridge in West Memphis, Arkansas. They’ve since moved that location further back, but I think it’s still only about a mile from the bridge in West Memphis.
 
What I always liked about Waffle Houses is that no matter where in the U.S. you were, you could always count on things being just so. By that, I mean, consistent delicious coffee. A BOWL of grits made to perfection, not too thick, not too thin…just right! And, wherever you stumbled into a Waffle House, you could do it 24 hours a day! I love this country!
 
In fact, as I write this, I realize that the only thing I don’t think I’ve had at Waffle House is a friggin’ waffle. That’s kind of odd, huh? Eh, I’m sure they were masterpieces too.
 
You may have noticed that I’m using a lot of past tense words here. Sigh…I’m afraid Waffle House is on the slow slide to grits hell.
 
I recently came across a couple of articles of weird occurrences in Waffle Houses across the country. But, before I delve into those messes, I will tell you that I found myself in Oklahoma City early yesterday morning. There’s a fairly new Waffle House on Meridian Ave there, so in the interest of investigative blogalism, I decided to take a seat inside and have some breakfast. Hey, I’m doing this for you, people!
 
I can sum up my visit in three words – too much drama. So it appears that I arrived as the shifts were shifting. The guy behind the counter doing the cooking was actually one of the managers as it turned out. It seems the morning shift cook was late. There were a couple of waitresses finishing up their pre-shift breakfasts. The late night cook was at the counter next to me having his post-shift breakfast.
 
In the middle of it all, I look out the window and see a guy in a bright white…I’m talking nuclear flash white here…Tommy Hilfiger coat getting out of a bright white Lexus and come strolling in. He’s the morning cook. They must pay real well at Waffle House. He’s complaining about how cold it is and that he needs something warm in his stomach before he can cook.
 
A female manager is following him up and down behind the counter nipping at him for being late, saying things like, “You have a job…for now…do it,” and “You’re a grown ass man with a car and you can’t get to work on time?”
 
Mr. Late to Work for the most part ignores her, getting himself a tall tumbler of orange juice and carefully hanging his Tommy Hilfiger coat. When she’s out of earshot, he starts mumbling to the other employees about her.
 
I hurried through my breakfast and got out of there before someone started shooting. Well, I tried to hurry through my breakfast. Yeesh…hopefully the manager who was doing the cooking is extremely good at something else. Cooking ain’t it. The bacon was overdone and the grits…my goodness…the grits were just…awful. But, then I don’t know why I would expect anyone in Oklahoma (except me) to be able to cook a pot of perfect grits. As southern as we all like to claim to be (at times, when it suits us), there’s nary a grit eater among us.
 
That was enough for me. I determined that Waffle Houses, one of those constants in MY Universe is rapidly devolving into a gritless franchise the likes of which only a Denny’s could exceed.
 
It was then that I realized that the other stories I had heard about Waffle Houses must be true. Take for example, a story that comes to us from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (I’ll bet they know good grits), wherein a woman (pictured above in her mug shot) presumably dining at a Waffle House in Kennesaw, GA stripped naked and went on a rampage, punching one woman in the face and breaking her nose, and then heaving plates of food everywhere.
 
Bet she stripped naked so as not to get any blood or egg yolks on her clothing…smart move. The real trouble began when the cops showed up and she began throwing plates at them. While trying to subdue her, she managed to scratch one of the cops’ face…uh oh.
 
In the end, she was charged with aggravated battery and damage to a place of business, assault, obstruction, and OF COURSE public indecency.
 
Well, I’m happy to say, that my visit to the Waffle House on Meridian didn’t involve any female nakedity though that would have more entertaining than listening to Mr. Late to Work muttering complaints as he slung overcooked, dried out grits into a bowl.
 
The next incident, which occurred only days before the naked Waffle House romp above took place, involved the firing of two Waffle House employees who were apparently styling hair using kitchen equipment at a Waffle House in Arkansas. This one comes to us from the Huffington Post web site.
 
Two customers, just minding their own business and trying to enjoy their Waffle House breakfasts (probably with really good grits), discovered hairs in their meal…ooooooooo bonus!
 
They looked up to see one of the cooks dipping her hair into a water pot on the stove and then drying it with one of the towels they use behind the counter.
 
One of the customers managed to get video of the incident and handed it over to a TV news department, which of course ran it.
 
Waffle House corporate in Georgia, where the grits generally come with a slab of ham and redeye gravy, immediately fired the two employees involved and then dealt with an investigation by the local health department.
 
Let’s see what we’ve learned today, shall we?
 
1.     Waffle Houses are going to hell.
 
2.     Nobody in Oklahoma (except me) can make a proper bowl of grits.
 
3.     Meridian Ave in OKC is a freak parade until the sun comes up.
 
4.     I’ve obviously done something wrong in life that I don’t wear Tommy Hilfiger jackets or drive a Lexus or work at a Waffle House.
 

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