For as many years as I've been out driving on the road, it's almost amazing that I never ate at a Waffle House. Guess I have gotten into the habit of using drive thru because I can roll through then keep right on going and eat as I drive. But last week as I passed through Mississippi, I decided to pull over and have an early breakfast there.
It wasn't too crowded when I walked inside. I sat at the counter, and was looking at the menu when a clown in full costume came and sat down next to me. "Hungry?" he asked me.
"Yes sir. Breakfast is my favorite meal."
"Really? That's very odd. By the way, I'm Bobo the clown." I noticed that he seemed somewhat morose, not at all cheerful and clown-like. "Ever had breakfast for dinner? Now that is a truly kinky experience."
"Yes, I like breakfast anytime."
"Have you decided what you're going to get yet?"
"No, I'm still studying the menu. This is my first time at the Waffle House."
Bobo was stunned. "No way. How is it possible that anyone in America has not eaten at the Waffle House?"
"I find that hard to believe." Bobo lit up and started smoking, and I recognized the aroma of marijuana.
"Uh, I don't think it's cool to smoke in here, Bobo."
"Don't worry, it's not a cigarette. That's what they don't want you to smoke in a restaurant is cigarettes, not weed." He inhaled deeply. "Now do you like yours smothered, covered or chunky?"
I had just been looking at the hashbrowns on the menu, and noticed the variations that Bobo had mentioned. "I was just trying to decide. I've never seen so many different ways to fix hashbrowns."
Bobo seemed surprised. "Hashbrowns? I was talking about women."
This confused me, but I let it pass. Bobo began to cry. "Are you OK, Bobo?"
"No I am not OK." He took a long puff off his joint. "Not OK at all. I know what you're thinking, the life of a clown, all fun and games, happy go lucky. Bullshit! Haven't you ever heard about the tears of a clown? When no ones around?"
I wasn't sure what to say to this. No doubt about it, this had to be the saddest clown I had ever encountered. "Anything I can do to help?"
He got very irate and pointed a finger at me. "Oh, now you want to help me. Now you decide its time to reach out to poor Bobo."
"I just wanted to--"
"I know what you just wanted, and it's too little too late. Where's your compassion, where's your heart? Is all you can think about stuffing your face with waffles? Which, by the way, are very delicious here." Bobo began to sob and ran off, heading straight into the Ladies restroom. A waitress came over and took my order. I wondered what in the world was wrong with Bobo the clown, and if he had gone into the wrong restroom by accident.
By the time my breakfast arrived, I had observed that Bobo was causing quite a stir. One woman needed to go to the restroom but couldn't, and then the Waffle House manager noticed smoke coming out from under the door. The police showed up soon after, and they only gave knocking a try once before they forced the door open. As they dragged a sobbing Bobo out, I noticed he was sucking on a straight glass pipe which I believe is used for crack. The clown began to kick and scream, but the cops had no problem forcing him into submission. In a bizarre way, I felt like I was getting dinner and a show. Well, breakfast and a show.
As you are driving down the highway, stop in and check out a Waffle House. They are abundant and seem to be everywhere you go, and they make fantastic waffles and hashbrowns. But if you see a clown headed your way, you might want to take a detour.