Three waffles, none of them eaten

The waffle machine had instructions in six pictures. The third picture showed a paper cup pouring batter into the center. The fourth showed the handle rotating clockwise. No picture showed what to do if the first waffle was not sufficiently round.

A boy of about nine made the first one while his father held a telephone sideways. When the timer sounded, the father lifted the lid and said, “That one’s a little messed up.” The left edge had failed to occupy perhaps half an inch of the grid.

The boy made a second. This one was round, but a small amount of batter had crossed the hinge and hardened there. The father photographed it, considered the photograph, and asked whether they could do one more without the extra part.

There were five people waiting. We adjusted ourselves around the juice dispenser to indicate that we were not in a hurry. The orange juice came from a concentrate pouch behind a locked metal panel. A label on the front called it orchard style.

The third waffle was round. The father took two photographs and carried it to a table by the window. The boy followed without the first two. They remained on separate paper plates beside the machine, each with its own plastic fork.

The woman tending breakfast was named Colleen. She wore a navy apron and moved between the batter, the coffee, and a tray of eggs formed into yellow rectangles. When she collected the two waffles, the father asked whether the motel had real maple syrup.

Colleen showed him the packets marked TABLE SYRUP. He read the ingredients and said his family tried to avoid corn syrup.

She said she hoped they enjoyed their stay.

At 8:55, Colleen announced that breakfast would close in five minutes. Several guests who had been sitting with empty plates stood up. One man took four yogurts. A woman put six tea bags in her purse. Nobody behaved quickly enough to be called hurried.

I asked Colleen what happened to the food that remained. She said the sealed things could stay. Everything warm had to go. The rule was printed in a binder, and the binder had been updated after an inspection.

Her shift began at 4:30. Before opening, she mixed the batter, made the coffee, heated the eggs, counted the yogurts, and recorded the refrigerator temperature. After closing, she weighed what was thrown away. The motel used the number to decide how much she should prepare the next morning.

The father and son left at nine. Their third waffle had been cut into four equal pieces. One piece was missing. Colleen placed the other three in the clear trash bag and wrote 6.4 ounces on her clipboard.

I took a banana for the road. It was still green, but this gave it somewhere to go.

Norbert