Updates from a real Waffle House

Disclaimer (thanks to David Weaver): This is a very fucking cheesy post, okay.

I suppose I should start with the most important update.

I finally got to go to a real, mildly sketchy Waffle House in the ungodly hours of the morning.

It didn’t quite live up to the image I’d constructed in my head — there were no workers with missing teeth — but the waffles were solid, the odor of weed hung thick in the air and the company was phenomenal (though Danny, sadly, did not join us this time.)

My car swelled with laugher as I merged onto the highway that’d take us back to UNC. It was pitch black outside and slivers of rainbow colored lights from billboards and storefronts and cars flashed in the periphery.

“Fuck,” I cursed. “Ike overtook me!”

“You should have listened to me when I told you to switch lanes back there,” Fabiana, a co-RA, chided from next to me. In the backseat, Abrah, another co-RA, and her friend laughed over a video essay they’d been working through.

An odd mix of nostalgia and gratitude struck me in those moments gliding down the road at 60 mph. My stomach felt like it was floating into my chest and my heart was beating steadily.

The euphoric feeling intensified when, as we devoured our untimely breakfasts under the dim yellow lights of our dorm lobby, Ike said something to the effect of: “…this is one of those moments when you realize that you’re living in the good old days.”

Damn.

I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way about UNC a year ago. In fact, exactly a year ago, I’d vented to my best friend about wanting to take a gap year because I was so miserable at school.

But on this particular day, I’d spent every waking minute surrounded by people who I loved and cared about.

I did room checks with my co-RAs before we closed up the dorms for Winter Break and had a four-hour-long conversation over lunch with my girlfriends Cynthia, Anjali and Ashley. Then Cynthia and I went to a bougie outdoor mall to pick up Christmas presents for my sister. I dropped Cynthia off back at Duke and finally adventured to Waffle House with other friends who were happy to support my stupid mini-endeavors.

I would have missed all of this had I decided to take a gap year. I wouldn’t have met friends like Ashley or Fabiana if I’d taken a gap year. I’d have lost time with Cynthia, who’s moving all the way to Seattle in June, if I’d taken a gap year. What in the actual hell was I thinking?

This year wasn’t perfect — shit, UNC made the news multiple times for all the wrong reasons. But goodness, was it a year, full of experiences and friendships and growth.

I feel more confident in my own skin than I ever have before. I’m employed for the next summer — and was even blessed to have options during my internship hunt. And more importantly, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the folks in my life.