It was shortly before nine this Christmas morning when Marilyn and I left our house in Tuscumbia and headed to the Waffle House on Woodward Ave., also in Tuscumbia, with dreams of pecan waffles and smothered hash browns dancing in our heads. Not to mention their wonderful hot coffee.
As I pulled into the left-hand turn lane on Hwy. 72 to turn onto Woodward, I could see the Waffle House, which sits on the right side of the roadway, about 500 feet away. "Uh-oh," I thought I had muttered under my breath, but obviously, I hadn't as M looked up. I just pointed toward our destination and said, "look." The parking lot was full and overflowing, and there were actually patrons standing outside waiting to get in.
I mentioned driving to the Florence Waffle House, but M nixed that idea, saying we would have a seat here before we drove across the river. She was right, so I pulled into the parking lot. There were actually a couple of spots available, and I quickly grabbed one before the person heading towards me could take it.
For several years now, if we are home on Christmas, and it is just the two of us, we go to Waffle House. They are friendly, the food is good, the coffee hot, and the prices are reasonable. What's not to like?
As we walked to the building that glows like a yellow beacon at night, the sun beat down upon our faces like it was early spring. The skies were clear, and the temperature was already pushing 70. We actually got inside the door! Turns out the four or five standing outside had already eaten and were just saying their goodbyes before continuing with their Christmas Day activities.
There were about a dozen or so standing. M whispered, "we can go home, I'll make waffles, and you can make hash browns and coffee." No, no, I replied, let's wait it out. So, we did. One thing about waiting at the Waffle House, it's all on the honor system. The hostess will ask who is next and we all point to the people who were ahead of us. It wasn't long, maybe 10 minutes, before we next to be seated. I noticed one of the 12-15 or so workers cleaning off a space and nudged M. We made our way over to a pair of chairs to the left of the cashier and sat down. Perfect seats!
Freda was our waitress, and she immediately asked if we wanted coffee (yes, please) and if we needed creamer (M does) as she laid napkins and silverware in front of us. The plastic-coated full-color picture menus offered a wonderful selection of breakfast items and plates. It didn't matter, we already knew what we wanted. We ordered the All-American breakfast. Two eggs, bacon or sausage, grits or hashbrowns, toast or biscuit and a waffle. A breakfast hearty enough for a lumberjack, or most young southern men.
M and I order this meal and split it. She gets the waffle, and I get everything else. So, when we told Freda what we were having, she knew immediately what we were doing. She looked at me and said, "eggs?" (Scrambled), "Hash browns or grits?" (Hash browns, smothered), I then said bacon and whole wheat toast before she could ask. She smiled at my efficiency, obviously knowing this was not my first visit. M made her waffle a pecan waffle. Hint, those are really, really, I mean really good waffles and added a side of bacon. She smiled and yelled out our order. How the cook heard it is one of the day's small mysteries.
As our food was being prepared, we talked as we waited. Conversations were everywhere. Standing behind me was a woman, I would guess 50 or so, with an elderly man. As they were waiting for their table, she said to her restless dad, "now dad, try not to be so rude this time." I smiled, I hope I'm not rude when I'm 85 or 90. An older black gentleman sat down on M's right side. They were soon deep in conversation about the man's recent cataract surgery and how it has changed everything. Freda came back by and asked if we needed more coffee. I held up my cup which was less than half-full and she filled it, all the while thanking us for being so patient. We assured her it was Christmas and we were not in a hurry. I added a single sweet-n-low to my coffee and continued soaking in this wonderful ambiance.
One of the booths to our left had a family of five. Mom, dad, and three kids. The kids all appeared to be in their 20's, one of the girls may have been a teenager. The son sat in a chair pushed up to the end of the table. One thing that was impossible to ignore was all three women had on matching pink and white pajamas. Again I elbowed M, she was probably tired of that and nodded to my left. She smiled as I did and went back to talking about cataracts.
Our food arrived in a timely manner. After praying, M lathered her waffle and drowned it in syrup, while I coated my scrambled eggs and hash browns with copious amounts of black pepper. The conversation slowed as we enjoyed our breakfast. To be honest, it might not have been as hot as usual but given the amount of food they were preparing in that small space, I was in no way complaining, besides, it was still good.
When Freda left us the bill, M, who did not bring her purse, asked me how much money I had. I had the $20 she had given me before we left the house, plus about $17 in my wallet. I asked how much she needed, and she said, "give me all of it, it's Christmas and she's working hard." I couldn't agree more and handed over all the money I had.
As I was about to leave, I asked Freda for a to-go coffee cup, as I still had a bit left. When she brought it, she insisted on pouring it herself from my mug into the Styrofoam cup. As I headed toward the door, most I made eye contact with wished me a "Merry Christmas," and I did the same.
As I got in the car we briefly reflected on our visit, that despite the waiting for a table and then for the food, everyone was in a good mood and speaking to one another, wishing glad tidings to people they never met. It was a wonderful experience, and not just because of the breakfast. Everyone felt welcome, felt equal, and was fed. As my son Barclay would say, "it was glorious."
Be safe if you are traveling. Be kind to each other. See you down the road.
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