It’s that time of year again, where the temperature drops and the Fall is distinctively in the air. I miss DC now more than ever, but as I bid it adieu I must admit, I’m finding more and more reasons why Forever I Love Atlanta.
Any city worth anything is a canvas of culture: streets, citizens, local staples, illustrating stories and letting the ordinary extraordinarily unfold at every moment. It’s not what you look at, it’s what you see. Atlanta bursts at the seams with effortlessly juxtaposing overtones and undertones endlessly ebbing and flowing about the red clay.
Went to Waffle House today with my little brother while our car was getting serviced over at Dekalb Tire (on Roswell. nice people, comfy chairs, free coffee and Splenda. thumbs up). If you don’t know about Waffle House, Google it. If you haven’t been inside a Waffle House , you’re probably a northern aggressor or haven’t ventured east of an In n Out Burger since your first bite. If you haven’t eaten at a Waffle House, you’re either one of the aforementioned and/or you have ventured into a Waffle House and took its charm for borderline health violations.
Either way, WaHo is an experience. If nothing else, it’s Americana at its best
Like beam of sunlight pointing out the promised land, like a beacon of hope cutting through the storm clouds — albeit a weathered and worn beacon, more like a 30 watt beam of light gesturing in the general direction of a promised land…
Look at that: Americana right when you walk in the door
WaHo knows there’s nothing more refreshing in the morning than that red, white, blue, and a cup of joe for you (for an extra $.60 you can splurge with Splenda — should’ve gotten my condiments from DeKalb Tire)
My country ’tis of thee: Manager’s Specials as American as Apple Pie — lo siento, pastel de manzana
Waffles so good they even get their makers’ mouths to water — so to speak
Watch this space: Bienvenidos al “Melting Pot.” Waffle House, siempre tu vecino abajo la calle with the down home cooking…