A late-night Waffle House trip is such a magical experience. Everybody in there is as drunk as you are, everybody on the same journey with the same goal: Soak up the alcohol with some of the greasiest, most unhealthy, most delicious food known to man.
Honestly, I’ve said it before, but it would be hard to explain to somebody who had never been why Waffle House is one of America’s greatest treasures.
“Is it clean?”
“It’s like eating in a truck stop bathroom.”
“Is it gourmet food?”
“The guy cooking definitely has a few felonies and a meth addiction.”
“Is it the staff?”
“One wrong move and they’ll beat your ass.”
But at 3 AM, after a night of drinking, nothing tastes better than those smothered and covered hash browns cooked with love behind a greasy counter by a guy with a cigarette and an ankle monitor.
And the camaraderie is second to none.
I mean, just look at this scene from a Tampa area Waffle House after Luke Combs played a recent show at Raymond James Stadium.
Where else are you going to meet up with a bunch of strangers after a show and get the whole restaurant to break out into an acapella sing-along of “Hurricane?” It’s like like a redneck version of the TV show Glee, but way more entertaining.
And this group didn’t just sing the chorus. Nope, they started from the top and sang the whole damn song.
Don’t tell me there’s nothing that can bring this country together anymore. Change the White House to a Waffle House and these guys will have all of the world’s problems solved before the hangover even starts to kick in.