Member-only story
THE PANCAKE APOCALYPSE
The Breakfast That Nearly Broke Me
One man becomes Batter Boy against his will
—
Written with heart, humor and a stubborn refusal to stay silent
—
The trickle turned to torrent quicker than you could say “pass the syrup.” They rushed onward, hungry souls driven by an all‑you‑can‑eat $5 pancake breakfast. Down the hall. Into the parking lot. Across the street.
Hundreds, then thousands. Counting turned countless.
And still they came.
More than 40 Scouts in the troop I help lead worked the crowd for this annual fundraiser of ours. They did their best to make sure the Hoot Owl Special (two pancakes) didn’t get mixed up with the El Supremo (owl plus eggs plus sausage). It was a harrowing task for the uniformed youth — some Pancake Breakfast veterans, others wide-eyed recruits.
When Breakfast Became a Public Safety Issue
7 a.m. A few hearty customers, first in line
8 a.m. Tables filling fast
9 a.m. Cops called to hold back the crowd
9:17 a.m. Pretty sure a sausage just flew by
