Memory from the Five Points HM

A dear old friend was in town today. David D0ver lived on the floor below me my freshman year in college. My third and fourth years, he lived next door to me. Today, he, his wife, and several members of her family joined me for lunch on the row. They brought their son Owen along, and it was really cool to see them all. (Warning: Inside joke approaching). The conversation and company were great. Not once was I asked whether or not I could sing five shelves elective hole. Here's the post-lunch pic.



My favorite Dave story is from my freshman year. The two of us, along with Special K and others, were making a late night trip to the HM (HM was the W@ffle H0use, and was so named because one of those two put a W@ffle H0use hat on upside down, and the other read the initials too literally). For some reason, Dave had a toy hook arm with which he had been scaring performance majors. Before leaving the dorms for the HM, it was determined that Dave should go into the Waffle House with the hook arm on. On the way to the car, it was furthermore determined that we should make a big deal out of the hook arm upon our arrival at the HM. The end result was as follows.

Special K drove (I think) south on Lumpkin, then East on Milledge and took the left directly into the HM parking lot. He stopped about 20 feet into the parking lot, positioning the vehicle carefully directly in front of the building's largest window so that the car's presence was obvious to all of the restaurant patrons.

I exited the vehicle from the passenger's side and SpecialK popped the trunk. I lifted the trunk door and offered a hand to a fetal yet patient Dave. I helped him out of the car and onto his feet where, in full view of an attentive HM population, he stood looking bewildered and completely unaware of the fact that he had a hook for an arm. Gaining his composure, he slowly turned to look at those dining within, and simply stood and smiled as the HM customers looked on with their mouths open, thinking as one, "WTF?"

The rest of us were laughing wildly at Dave's ice-cold self-control and the awe on the faces of the onlookers. We were also remarkably embarassed to go inside, and instead thought it best to continue down Milledge to the next HM, just so we weren't eating at an establishment at which we were already branded crazy. We did so, and the meal was fine. But I will never forget the looks on those faces as Dave emerged from the trunk. It was as though reality had wrapped itself around its own neck and was threatening to cause the universe to explode. I'm glad I have that to remember.