Generally, I hate rooting through my past. There's too much crap back there for me to be comfortable. If I read something by me that's too old, it just puts me off. And it's not the copious grammar and spelling mistakes either. It's that it was written by a different person, a person with whom I can know longer communicate.

I guess this makes sense. Where I too comfortable with my past, it might indicate that I was stagnant, not moving forward at all. I mean, I wasn't perfect then, so it's good that now I'm a different person, right?

The trouble is, I'm not entirely sure that this different person is a better person.

And, maybe that's the thing I really can't stand about the past…

So, we quit making speeches and started walking toward the door. And that's when we realized, something had gone terribly wrong.

The unit number said 1,000 not 1.000.

Neil, remember that time when Tom Hanks said, "Houston, we have a problem?" It was like that feeling.

So, we're on the road again. The 1,000 had provided us with the street address of the zero, but things were looking bleak. The town was too far from an interstate to support two Waffle Houses.

But we looked for 2719 E. College Avenue anyway.

I went to school at 300 E. College Avenue. If had known how close I was, I guess I would have walked the 24 blocks sometime in the past.

Then again…

They blew it up.

Those damn dirty ninjas.

They blew it all to hell!

 

In retrospect, blowing up the ninja hive was not a good idea.

 

A Hunan Express now stands at 2719 E. College Avenue. And just to spite the 24-7 nature of the Waffle House, it was closed at lunch time on a Saturday.

John had to be restrained from attacking the restaurant.

Our whole trip it seems had become a Duckblur.

I guess we should have known, nothing lasts forever. The way I was didn't, I changed, moved on. High school didn't. Even freshman year. The first half of the summer. My great-grandmother. Open Diary.

We were foolish to think that Waffle Houses would be any different.

We hadn't time to eat properly, so we got to go orders from 1k and left for Colatown.

And we never saw the Hunan Express again.

Though in fairness, it hasn't been that long and we live far away.

 

Anyhow, John and Shige' and I finished off the documentary at Waffle House Eden: the second Waffle House ever and the first in South Carolina.

We looked at it and made more speeches about how we learned that nothing lasts forever. Or something like that (life usually sends me bad morals to stories). And I accused Shige' of being a ninja. And down the block there is another Waffle House, so life goes on.

So, in the end we quit pontificating and went to the mall.

A full day is like a full meal. It leaves you feeling someway... Full, I suppose.

And that's what I felt after my trip with my friends.

I guess we learned that the old saying is true: You can never go back to the original Waffle House.

The Waffle House has a motto of sorts: "You had a choice and you chose us."

And I suppose I chose the wrong card. And I chose who I am now. And God chose my choosing. So, it all works out.

Nothing last forever. In the end, it's all duct tape–an impermanent fix to the problem of time's passing.

That's what my dad does now, he metaphorically duct tapes things. At his practice, he heals the sick, for a while. And he fixes furniture for my mom's shop, until it breaks again. And he fixes stuff around the house, like the worn down heals of my old shoes. (And heavens, they are ungainly now!) But he has to know it won't last. With duct tape you get disillusioned pretty quick.

And I guess that's what disillusionment is, expecting things to be one way and having them turn out another way. And when one expects, as I do, that things will stay the same… Well, there isn't much chance of avoiding disillusionment.

Neil, do you suppose Jim Lovell still feels bad about not visiting the moon? After all, he was named a Time magazine man of the year in '68 for orbiting the moon, so doing it again in '70 wasn't so mean a feat.

He came so close, and then through no fault of his own he got zlich, nothing.

Heck, it makes for a better story anyway. No way Tom Hanks will ever play anyone on Apollo's 12, 14, 15, 16 or 17 and those guys ran around with you on the moon.

I guess he's disillusioned too.

He had a big future planned, where he was an American Hero returning from the moon, but instead he was just a disaster victim.

Nothing ever works out like you plan.

But, it isn't so bad being ordinary, I guess. Even going to Vanilla Furman University instead of Rocky Road MIT.

I have a choice and I choose to be satisfied, if not as fully illusioned.

I hope Jim Lovell does, too.