WAFFLE HOUSE MEMOIRS #1

WAFFLE HOUSE MEMOIRS
09-18-97
Thursday

INTRODUCTION

NOTE: For those of you not familiar with the restaurant "Waffle House", this introduction won't mean much to you. Suffice it to say that "Waffle House" is a restaurant that is open 24 hours a day, all year round. It serves breakfast items mainly but also has other things to choose from, 24 hours a day, all year round. The food is not bad, but is known for being greasy. Yet, the same folks who say that are the ones who you might see there at 4 a.m. one night drunk as hell, coming in for food and coffee after a night of intensed partying. I should know. I have been there quite a few times.

You just sit there and try to tell me that I'm wrong; - Waffle House is second home to much of America's young generation. Am I right or am I wrong? Of course I'm right. The idea for much of my writing has stemmed from the fact that I am of course a member of the Waffle House Club. Every time that I think of a certain W.H. location that I've been to, I realize that there is a story behind it, a great urban tale which is most easily remembered by its W.H. association.

GREASY AIN'T NECESSARILY STINKY

My very first memories of Waffle House fall into the same time frame that my first exposure to Kung Fu falls into; strange, but true. I'm sure that I must have gone to Waffle House before that time, probably with my family, because such a craving for greasy food just can't be natural. Of course, when I began my training in Northern Shaolin Kung Fu, I was not yet old enough to drive. Classes were held pretty early in the morning. Depending on my Dad's work schedule, either he would drop me off at my sifu's (teacher's) house, or I would get up extra early and take the bus. If I did take the transit system, it would leave me right in front of a Waffle House, with about one mile of suburbs to walk before reaching my destination. And, if any little quiet stroll meant anything, this one was the tops. The sun would have risen just a bit, yet dark enough to make you feel alone, and the mist and dew were still glistening on leaves of the trees. There was also this unforgettable aroma. That wonderful smell of the morning. Trees and flowers have a much stronger scent in the dew-laden mornings, that's for sure. I could've been anywhere in the world, because it seemed magical to a young boy. The driveway to sifu's house was long and it winded around small hills, all engulfed by a thick and ominous forest. As I walked up the drive in the shadows of the towering arbors, I often wondered how early he woke up to light the torches that flickered along the way. Nearing the house, I could just hear the soft trickle of the fountain that all we Kung Fu brothers contributed our efforts to build. Sifu (term, with idea of kung fu teacher), as always, would be sitting on the porch sipping tea and reading a book; on Taoism probably, but philosophy-oriented definitely. We would nod our heads at each other, respectfully not speaking, because the sounds of our harsh voices would disturb the tranquility. Quietly I would slip inside and begin to take off my `street shoes.' Trying to maintain my balance on one leg, while taking off the shoe of the other foot, I'd end up silently cursing myself. I mean, how could I dare to stumble around, make a bunch of clatter, look like a damned fool and expect to keep the reverent feeling? Finally I'd make my way into the kwoon (training hall). There I relax a bit, because if I made any more noise, it would be acceptable and expected. Sifu would come in, and following tradition, give us each our lineage and generic shaolin salute, respectively. Then sifu, Larry (a fellow student who had much more experience than I) and myself would begin the warm-up exercises. There was rarely a class with over five students in attendance on any given day, because our `warm-ups' were a bit beyond the average "fitness program." Newcomers would often faint, throw-up, or just plain give up after only 30 minutes of our "warm-ups." Needles to say, our sifu didn't teach for the money, or else he would have made the training regimen less demanding to keep the more affluent prospects as students. We all became quite strong in body, mind and spirit.

Nevertheless, four hours later would find me sitting on a Waffle House stool, eating waffles, eggs, and grease. I say "grease," just to sound healthy-minded, but the food was definitely not without its Waffle House love. Not to mention the fact that all of the people who when asked if they would like to go to W.H., react in horror "Not that greasy crap!" - are all friends of Waffle House at heart.

Anyway, it's the same with "Stinky." Larry was a big guy; tall and hefty, but not quite fat, mind you. The power that guy release when he unloaded on you in the middle of a sparring match...whew!!! I can still feel the crushing weight of his side kick on the middle of my chest.
But then again, I was only 15 years old at the time, and he was 28 with 5 more years of experience under his belt in the system. When I knew Larry, he was `paying his dues.' He was studying full-time at Life Chiropractic College, worked on the weekends at Sifu's Dalhonega restaurant, trained in Kung Fu, and was trying to keep steady a loving relationship with Dee. That's enough to drive anyone crazy; and in fact I learned that it did stress him out quite heavily. Later, I too struggled in the same exact way, and realized that all people in a discipline, trying to find spirituality, etc., and still follow the chains of a worldly life (which pretty much is unavoidable until later stages of one's life) go through the same stress-lined encounters.
At that time, Larry would give me a ride after class in his old yellow car to my destination: Waffle House. With all of the junk food that I ate back then, I really should've been the one called stinky. In the middle of the warm-ups, I would be sweating heavily and my rancid body odor would give me away. "Jeeez, Craig, what the hell have you been eating?"

But Sifu had a son, Neil.

After class was over, all of us students would usually stay in the kwoon for a couple of hours and practice, play, and then vacuum. Neil would always have just finished waking, eating cereal & watching cartoons, and then would come gallivanting into the kwoon. Larry would be showing me some Qi Gong exercises by this time, and the effects would start to show. Combine the deep abdominal breathing with waist-turning movements, and your insides shake, rumble and then expel what your organs don't agree with.

I said Larry had power.

And during Qi Gong...
You could smell it. I had B.O.(body-odor), but he had
...rip-roarin' thunder!

Neil would begin skipping around the two of us singing and laughing at the same time "Stiiiinky - Stiiiinky!" Hah! - Maybe that's why we got along so well - we were both pretty foul at times.

And to this day, when he answers the phone halfway across the country...

I still say "What's up, stinky?"