Whoah, watch your fucking mouth.

I show up around 9AM. If there’s a line, I fucking wait. Why? Because it’s goddamn worth it, that’s why. They ask me how many for my table– I tell them I’m flying solo today, but I need a lot of room. They give me a booth. The waitress tries to put the menu down on the table, but I swipe it off in disgust. Fuck that menu. I’m here for the motherfucking breakfast buffet. What the hell do I need a menu for? I shake off the disrespectfulness of this “person” and tell her I want an orange juice. Extra pulp. And a water. Iced, with no straw.

As soon as she moves out of the way, I’m already up out of the booth making a bee-line for the buffet area. I pass by the casuals looking at the food and wondering what to get. There are no options; there is only the right choice and a bunch of distractions from it. I grab two plates and a bowl. The first plate gets piled up with eggs and engulfed in cheese sauce. If I’m feeling a little fancy, I’ll throw some pepper on top at the table, but these babies are perfect as they are– I almost start eating it right there in line.

Now we get to the second plate. And this is the part where you should pay attention. The second plate is for the French Toast Sticks. That’s not accidentally capitalized, and if you didn’t take off your hat and/or stand when you read those words, you’re fucking wrong. Fuck you, you disprespectful, unpatriotic excuse for a human being. If you did, then please read on. So I pile these bars of gold high. At least 8 inches. I typically have a mini keychain measuring tape handy for this. Sometimes you build a fort, and other times you just lay them all down gently so you don’t wake them. I’ll tell you what though, it’s easy to fuck this up. Don’t just grab any French Toast Stick. You grab the ones that feel soft on the other end of the tongs. Those are the good ones. An occasional crunchy one for variety is fine.

Then we take the bowl. Cereal? No. Grits? Fuck no. Oatmeal? Get the fuck out. Syrup. You fill the bowl up with as much syrup as it can handle. You should ideally be spilling bits of syrup as you make your way back to your table juggling the 8th wonder of the earth in your hands.

When you finally make it back, your silverware, orange juice, and water should all be set out and good to go. You are left to your devices; and can enjoy the sweet joy that is Shoney’s breakfast buffet. Many people do this after Church on Sundays, but for me the only church is the House of Shoney’s and I accept the communion of French Toast Sticks each mass.