Newspapers / North Carolina School of … / Feb. 1, 2002, edition 1 / Page 8
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8 ■ february 2002 oninions ncssm I the stentorian The Man in the Yellow House S. James M. Phillips O K, so I admit it, I’m a Yankee. Northerner, city slicker, moron, whatever you want to call me, all that matters is that I’m just not from around here. I moved from Baltimore, Maryland to Durham, North Carolina, in 1998 when my father got a job with the almighty Duke University. Now, as anyone else who has moved to the South from some other, less important place knows, the culture down here is just a bit different. I still remember my first hush puppy, my first sip of sweet tea, and the first time I used the term “y’all.” Just out of curiosity, at what num ber of people does “y’all” become the plural “all y’all?’’ In my four years in the south, I have not yet been able to fig ure that out. But that is beside the point. The moment I stepped foot unto the magnifi cent state of North Carolina, I fell madly in love w i t * h- Southern The thing that fascinated me most about the South was the vast array of fine dining establishments which were completely new to me. Everywhere I looked, some new culinary adventure called my name, beckoning me to experience exciting new southern delicacies. Bojangles, Chick-Fil-A, Cracker Barrel, it was all a heady adventure in a delec table wonderland. Never before had I tasted such com plex flavors, drunk such refreshing beverages, or seen restaurants of such pure aes thetic beauty! Through this lover’s mist of new restau rants, one particular chain loomed large, demanding me to partake of its plentiful meals. A place so good that I could not begin to compre hend its very goodness. Its yellow sign called to me from the interstates and roadways of North Carolina, whisper ing, “James, eat here, eat here, eat here” like a siren calling me to my untimely demise of cholesterol and fat clogging my healthy arteries. Of course the restaurant I am referring to is the one and only, the irre placeable, Waffle House. I believe that I first went to Waffle House late one Friday night, on my 18th birthday, after a long evening of board games and conversation with sev eral of “the fellas.” The only place that was still open to satisfy our insa tiable hunger was the aforementioned Waffle House. We managed to get a booth, even though the restaurant was filled to capacity despite the late hour. I ordered a waffle, two pieces of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and home To Chris Goulette: 1 hope you always have all the happiness that you’ve brought to my life. Happy Valentine’s Day. Kasee To Lilangi, Yoon-mt, A.nh, Haura, Blair, Jamie, Katherine, Anjni: To all my girls! 1 love you guys! You guys are the best in the world! Friends always! Love, Mary fries “all the way” with coffee and orange juice to drink. I do not think I have ever been more satisfied with a meal in my life. The coffee was a per fect blend of generic-brand motor oil and pond slime, and had just enough grit in it to satisfy any true coffee drinker. There is nothing quite like coffee with extra pulp. The uniformity of taste of the rest of the meal truly impressed me. It is very rare in this day and age to be able to go to a restaurant and order four sepa rate food items and have them all taste approximately the same. That is a sign of true quality, not to mention exqui site taste on behalf of the chef. The fact that the food is made on the grill right before your eyes also adds to the appeal of the meal; it assured me of the complete cleanliness of the establishment. I was even more comfortable about my dietary safety eating at the Waffle House than I am eating in the PFM, which is quite an accomplishment. The aromas of the place also struck me, and added to the general appeal of the restaurant as a whole. The mixture of old gym locker and wet muskrat was so overwhelming that all I could do was sit back and enjoy the potent, yet eerily pleasant, fragrance. The food, smell, and appearance of Waffle House are only a small part of the restaurant’s appeal. The peo ple who inhabit the little yel low food house are the real reason for going. A general rule for commercial establish ments of any kind is that if it stays open twenty-four hours a day, it is bound to attract some very interesting people, especially late at night. Visit Wal-Mart at 3:30 in the morn ing and this rule, actually call it a scientific law, will be proven. However, Waffle House takes this law and makes it about eight times more intense. The last time I went to Waffle House in the early hours of the morning, I saw fourteen cases of unusual piercing placement, two mohawks, sixty-four tattoos. ing up to your table and say ing: “Hey man, y’all want to buy some rail road tracks? I got the tracks right here, man!” is the type of thing that is just not that unusual at Waffle House. It’s a whole different world in there. I feel many things about the wonderful establishment that is Waffle House but someone else has said, actual ly sang, some- two teeth and someone .who thing that I feel truly encapsu- l^e coffee was a perfect blend of generic-brand motor oil and pond slime, and had just enough grit in it to satisfy any true coffee drinker. There is nothing quite like coffee with extra pul^ - To-CrvjtdbtxT PoTwver, Amorytto-; Ccvd^ dA/O/, te/ cjuAero- tna/y. T Oen^ mA/ cora/p&i^, Mvv eytreUo/, mA/o/mor. iHe^ dAchcr cju^ te/ quA/ero-l CvCMy, To Emily, Rock candy, pop rocks, music, dancing, the ocean, mountains, stars, and the moon-1 can’t wait to expe rience more. Happy V- day and one year, -xdxo Steven Ve^M' Nick/, I wcvrvtr ter oemfenry my pccyyicmate' cend/ tAmdy- love/ for yow. Hctf>py VaXentinc'’ y Veiyi Your Secret AdenCrer HSreacfa Jforraf, Some calf tlfao/e, Some ccdlil fate, ll)£ateoer it is, you were wort£ t£e wait I iBove, Oefie TcrVhntU/PcetEli You/ore/ my deareit heurbay. Your smile/maker me/ymihi You/ore/'diere/when/I need/ yout You/mearv the/whole/ wodd/trrmeA Love/Alwayy, Andrew Chen/ only had one ear. Whenever I am at Waffle House, boisterous conversa tion fills the air, assaulting the ears with stories of wild times told by even wilder people. Invariably, my friends and I encoimter some person who wants to prey on iimocent high school students and engage us in all sorts of truly interesting conversation. A friend of mine, when he dis covered that I was writing a piece on Waffle House, told me that his most ethereal experience in one of the many Dub-Houses across the state was when a man attempted to sell him and his fiiends rail road tracks. Someone walk- To Richard Conley, Ours is a strange and wonde rful relationship fi youTre strange and ITm wonderful! J/K. I heart you. fi Sarah To: Vera Padok Hey Sexy, Thinking of you, and d*"! 1 donTt know what to write. -Jed fA- SecoittfUSeall U£e siy£tofeac£ ofyoamaies my £eari smile. U£aa£s far £einy suc£ sweet £allmaies. Sooe, C. hdatts Uo Ueyfor Jfarrison, St want to t£an£youfor all you’ve t/cme. you’ve £een, a£ove all, a true frienef. you were t£ereforme w£en 3neeJetfyou t£emostancf even w£en 3fif- n’t.3want you £now t£t£ in my £eartyou’re irrepIaceaSIe amf 3loveyou immensely. Crystal3lenn To Emery Chen, Happy ValentineTs Day! Mahaki Ta Wa 1 NeH Love ya. Spirit Leader, aka Homie T lates my innermost thoughts and feelings about my favorite late night eatery. The song by former Go-Go hitmaker Belinda Carlisle “Heaven Is A Place on Earth” contains those intimate thoughts, because at Waffle House (not to be con fused with The Waffle and Pancake House in Butner, NC), heaven truly is a place on earth. I encourage all of you, my four readers, to spend as much of your hard-earned money at Waffle House as possible. It’s definitely worth it. Also, I encourage you to purchase Belinda Carlisle’s 1988 album “Heaven on Earth” if you want some true musical enjoyment. To Alods, Court Kat Nikla, Jen LuvUGlAS!-Alods, Court Amber, Kat Niklo, Jen, Ma, 3B girls, cheerfeading team. Ground E and 48. Happy V-C^ TonyaG Tojutiespidarli Bcihy,youreyeraredarigerourin/ moreMO}r&yanyxiknow. You/ caniUityonayycouihun^time/ Ourweekendcannetoome/yxm/ enou^ Kyhe/R To-Honiieren/though/Tm/ away from/ home/ nowand/ not able/to-see/you/, I juit want to-let you/know that you/wCU/olwayybe/in/my heart for aU/time/. Love/, HareArv Uo my Sweet Sorry, 3love you wit£ allmy £eart. you are everyt£iny, my roe£. Utave a Xappy Dalentine’s Day. Sove always, DawneUe You know who you are: eye hart ewe awl! much love and even more peace, Sarah DearUC CJectra, Ulere’s to one smart, awesome, and £aautfulyirlandt£e£estmont£3 oanremetaSer. Ulere’sJootunyat !t^ £kl. Bove, yuess w£o
North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics Student Newspaper
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Feb. 1, 2002, edition 1
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