I left Alabama. I am in Georgia now. At 3 a.m. I saw a yellow sign glowing beside the highway. Waffle House. I went in. The parking lot was full. At 3 a.m. I asked the waitress when they close. She looked at me the way you look at a child who has asked when gravity ends. She said, "We don't close, baby." Two things happened in that sentence. One: I learned Waffle House has never closed. Not at night. Not on Christmas. Not during hurricanes. Two: she called me "baby." I am a grown man. I have a mortgage. It repaired something in me I did not know was broken. I ordered hash browns. She said, "Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped?" I did not understand a single word in that sentence. I said, "Yes." She nodded and wrote it down. Apparently that was a correct answer. Then I learned something, and I need you to know I did not invent this. The United States government measures the strength of hurricanes by whether the Waffle House is open. Open: the storm is fine. Limited menu: the storm is serious. Closed: evacuate. It is over. This is called the Waffle House Index. FEMA uses it. FEMA. The disaster agency. Japan built earthquake satellites. America watches a diner. Both systems work. At 3 a.m., the Waffle House contained: two truck drivers. A nurse still in scrubs. Four teenagers in prom clothes. One man who had clearly made several mistakes that evening. And one Japanese man with a notebook. Nobody asked anybody why they were there. At Waffle House, being there is the answer. Then a man at the counter noticed my Alabama shirt. It was a gift. Long story. He did not speak. He pointed at the shirt and shook his head slowly, the way you correct someone in church. Then he said, quietly: "Go Dawgs." I panicked and used the only word I own. "Roll Tide." Every fork in the building stopped. The cook looked up from the eggs. The waitress said, "Baby, no." I understand now. Every state here has its own word. My word is from one state ago. The man bought my waffle anyway. He said, and I am quoting him exactly: "You didn't know. Bless your heart." I have been told that phrase has two meanings. I believe I received the gentle one. I believe.