PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Champion eaters, that is.

I met Roger & David for breakfast today, & of course was ten minutes late. Driving there, I realized I'd forgotten to charge my phone last night - so it was one tiny bar o' charge & my car charger wasn't working - and then the gas light came on. "Who's idea was this to meet at 9 a.m.?" I thundered, mentally. Well, that would be mine. Nobody should ever listen to me when I say we should meet anywhere, at anytime, before 10 a.m. on the weekends. It's folly fueled by idealistic dreams and everyone should have learned that by now, myself included. (NOTE: Unless it is December 26, or the day after Thanksgiving. Then, I am on a mission and there is no such thing as too early.)

The Cute Gay Boy waiter who's worked at The Corner restaurant for years saw me and sang, "There she is!" and I felt like the princess that I am. Roger, surprised, said, "How often do you come here?!" I said, "Not that often." David observed it was probably my Evil Lime Green boa that made him feel at home. CGB hooked me up with coffee & we waited for our assigned waiter.
I always assume half the waitstaff has rolled out of bed hungover, and our waiter was actually still wearing his coat, a coat I recall seeing on classmates back in sixth grade. It's good to see styles recur.

So we ordered. Roger: "Two banana-pecan cakes, a side of potatoes." (Me: "The Atkins platter?") David got a scrambled egg platter. Me: "Two corn cakes," (Roger: "OOOO! What are corncakes?!") and a potatoful with spinach, tomatoes, onions and cheddar. Oh and bacon. What the hell." Roger: "Oh yeah, and a half order of biscuits & gravy." (to me: "You'll eat some, right?" me: "Oh sure." See, it's just so easy to do, because everything's $2-$3 per "side", and it's like Breakfast Tapas, plates and plates and plates to sample. But I tell ya, if you get their filled pancakes, like the banana pecan? They're GINORMOUS and you can't really have three other sides, unless you shove them in your pockets & reheat later. So that's why I went with the corncakes, thinking they'd be smaller. It didn't matter. Everything's big, not small, like Tapas and we embarked on our Greco-Roman Buffet O' Breakfast.)

Our waiter was writing everything down and explaining to Roger (I'm a little fuzzy on the exact wording) that corncakes were like kettle corn, you know, popcorn but sweeter. Feeling a little self-conscious about everything we'd willy-nilly ordered, I said, "We haven't eaten in a week. We chain ourselves to the radiator & we get to come out on Sundays."

Confirming the "just rolled in hungover" theory, our waiter simply nodded at me. Like he'd heard it before, many times. Ah, the old "chained to the radiator" diet. Well, it was a hell of a breakfast & we ate like marathon athletes, training for a - well, a buffet.