Man, when I was driving across the country at 19 with my friend we stopped in a Waffle House in Kentucky. You know that movie trope when some out of towners walk into a bar or restaurant and as soon as they walk in everyone stops what they're doing and just stares at them? Well that's exactly what happened in this situation. Imagine if you will, two white thugs from the wrong side of Boston dressed in hip hop and punker gear walking into the most country fried backwoods group of cousin ****ers this side of the Mason Dixon. Literally every single soul in that restaurant stopped mid-chew/swig/bite and just stared at us like we were from another planet or something. We stood there for almost a solid minute, no one moving a muscle, then one of us just said "Uhhhh, this isn't our hotel." and we left as quickly as we possibly could. I swear if we stuck around we'd be hanging from some trees somewhere in the woods. Waffle House; never again.
