The Day the Waffle Iron Nearly Killed Us All

This is an electric waffle maker (also known a...

This is an electric waffle maker (also known as a waffle iron). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Gentleman at the Continental Breakfast,

Hello there. How have you enjoyed your stay at the Atlanta Comfort Suites? I thought it was great. They were nice enough to provide their guests the best amenities that a hotel has to offer, giving us everything from carpeted floors to shower curtains. Granted, the shower curtains were six inches shorter than they should be, but it’s not like we paid extra for the right to keep our shower water inside of the tub.

The best deal, though, was the free hot breakfast. This was no free breakfast that turns out to be just a box of Donettes and a gallon of Sunny Delight, but a breakfast complete with watery eggs and dried out bagels just like mama used to make. For a food lover like myself, it was a dream come true. There were those cream cheese pastries and some coffee that contained caffeine, the only ingredient of any importance in a cup of coffee. The only recommendation I would have is that they ditch the instant grits as eating grits is much like eating sand, but the texture is worse.

Of course, who can forget that waffle maker in the middle of the buffet?

In college, we had a waffle maker like this that we used constantly. Once the novelty of eating pizza and fried foods covered in nacho cheese for every meal had worn off, we would be over there making all sorts of waffle creations. We would open the waffle maker, throw in the batter and whenever the person in charge of the cafeteria was not looking, some candy, close it, flip the handle and wait two minutes. Then we would feast on the bounty of carbs and stolen candies until we slipped into a sugar-related coma.

That’s why I was so excited to see this particular waffle maker. I eagerly grabbed a cup full of the “batter of the day” (Spoiler Alert: it was waffle flavored) and poured it into the machine. Two minutes later, I was immersed into a world of waffly goodness. It was spectacular and I had once again fallen in love with this machine.

Then, this morning, I watched you use the machine. You grabbed the batter and poured. So far so good. In fact, I don’t believe you could have poured the batter any more perfectly. Then, you closed and spun the handle. Your waffle was cooking. I sat there, anxious for you.

Then, the alarm beeped. Your two minutes were up and you were just seconds away from the greatest breakfast treat a person can have.

Only, you forgot to spin the handle. The waffle iron wouldn’t open! Your waffle was trapped inside! You frantically tried to free it from its metal prison, but to no avail. There was no way to get to your waffle and so you did what I am sure many other people would do.

You just walked away and left it beeping.

Now, I’m not blaming you, but this did not seem like the best answer to the problem at hand for several reasons. Firstly, you could burn down the hotel. As we’ve established, it is a very nice hotel. There is a vending machine and my room had several lamps. How could we risk any of that?

More importantly, though, was that you had left it beeping. Beeping loudly. I was trying to eat my breakfast, but it was very difficult to concentrate on chewing some raisin bran when the room is filled with a machine going “BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!”

Fortunately, I was there. I jumped up, rushing to the waffle maker, and saving everyone in the hotel from a terrible fiery death.

I guess what I am trying to say is I’m a hero and you aren’t very good at making waffles. It’s okay. We can’t all be great at everything. I, for instance, am not great at dunking a basketball. It is most likely due to my lack of height, athletic ability, or interest in trying. You, in turn, are terrible at not burning down a hotel in your attempts to create a decent breakfast.

I guess we all have our own crosses to bear.

Love,

Nathan

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