I love my local IHOP restaurant, I do. I swear that it's hipper than the average IHOP, but until today, I didn't have a clear explanation. Here's the deal: Not only does it draw a diverse clientele, but the wait staff tends to look hipper. To wit: The three waiters working the dinner shift tonight included a red-haired guy with a barbell traversing the cartilage of his upper ear (plus a little other hardware, I think), a blondish guy with hipster sideburns and two small hoop earrings, and a foxy, chatty Asian guy with spiky hair and a pierced tongue. The restaurant seems to do a good job with employee retention, because busboys get promoted to cook and waiters and waitresses tend to stick around. And I've had subpar flapjacks only once in the past seven years.
Plus, Feral Mom and one of her toddlers once attempted to destroy the women's room, and it survived unscathed. What more could you ask for in an IHOP?
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Oh, man. I read Feral Mom's post about that a while back. Bob just couldn't understand why I was laughing so hard I had tears rolling down my face. Even after I made him read the post. He said it was funny but not necessarily *that* funny. Bah.
I had forgotten that it was you that she was with on that fateful trip. Do you giggle every time you go into that IHOP and look at the ladies room? Heck, I'll probably laugh every time I look at the IHOP down the street, now.
Ooooohhhhh...IHOP's stuffed french toast...now I'm drooling and crying....
Speaking at IHOP, but at the diner we went to last light, HOP was the word of the day. Two larger preschoolers a couple booths down were playing Simon Says and hopping in their adjacent booths. I wish I had had my back to it, because I was drawn to watch, even though it pained me to see.
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