If you've ever traveled down south, no doubt you've crossed paths with one of these establishments. Waffle House employs the unemployable, serves food to tweaking truckers and the morbidly obese 24 people hours a day, obviously playing an integral part in the communities of the deep south. Come on in and choke down some of Waffle House's "scattered, smothered and covered" hash-browns.

As of 2013 I have officially stamped Waffle House as one of those "never fucking again" places in my mind based on these three miserable experiences.

South Carolina, 1992 - As a child I can remember going to a Waffle House with my grandparents on our way to Hilton Head Island for summer vaca. I don't remember the food, or waitstaff, but I do distinctly remember walking out to the car and glancing back into the restaurant to find the manager spraying the tables, seats, and walls down with a fucking hose. Pretty unusual way to clean, especially since I had always associated the hose being used to clean our dog's house.

Alabama, 2012 - My second visit to a waffle house being many years later, a friend and I had stopped by at 3AM in Birmingham, Alabama, after a Primus concert. The air conditioning wasn't working causing the cooks to sweat profusely. Our waitress approached us-glistening from the film of grease covering her face. I ordered some filth that I cannot recall, as did my roommate. I asked him several times if he wanted to just eat some gas station snacks instead but he insisted on staying. Some local rednecks scattered around the restaurant would peer over at us as I'm sure they were determining whether our skin would be sufficient to make a quilt with. Our waitress came back with our meals, and dropped our plates onto the table. As I stared at this mound of poison disguised as food in front of me, two cockroaches scattered from beneath my plate. I glanced up at my friend, and we simultaneously stood up and walked out.

Kentucky, 2013 - Trapped in Kentucky after a day of shooting a country music video with some friends, we were once again left with little meal options in the late night hours. A few of us went to a Waffle House even though I strongly insisted we just not eat at all. As we sat down our alarmingly obese waitress who looked to be maybe 19 - 20 years old, waddled over to our table. She was quite talkative and it was clear she was high on narcotics. She took our orders and went straight into the bathroom, as I'm sure she needed to tie off again in order to stay coherent. About 10 minutes later our waitress returned with our food. I ordered a waffle as it seemed like a safe option. As I took my first bite our waitress engaged in conversation with my friends. She began confessing to myself and my friends about her horrible drug problem, and began explaining in detail each one of the 3 C-section operations she had had. The two teeth that she had left in the front of her mouth were flapping back and forth as she spoke. There was no way I could eat with this offensively disgusting human being present. It was at that moment I decided I would never, ever, step foot in one of these disgusting cement grease boxes again.

My advice, if you see one of these ugly yellow illuminated signs on the side of the highway, keep driving.