All Exciting at First

To celebrate the it's-about-time receiving of the keys to my new apartment, my friend Jamie and I decided to get some mid-morning pancakes. Rather than going to the slightly too-expensive local, known-good breakfast place, we hit the local instance of the International House of Pancakes on Biscayne Boulevard instead. I think this was, in fact, the first time I've ever eaten at an IHOP (anyone out there with evidence to the contrary, please let me know (I think I've eaten at some number of other similar joints (Golden Skillet, Waffle House, etc.) in my life (especially on the high school marching band trips that involved bus rides through large swaths of the American South) but never the place-itself (any of its selves))). And probably the last. At least for this particular House.

The terrible coffee and mediocre pancakes (eaten syrup-less, just for the record (my religion of preferring things dry continues)) aside, the generally depressing meal ended with the strangest cash-register interaction that I've had in a long while, thanks to the shrunken, incredibly old woman who was running the till. I paid with my plastic-account-interfacing-device, and as I went to the sign the receipt, this old woman noticed that I am left handed:

Old Woman: "Oh, left-handed are you?"
Me: "Uh-huh."
Old Woman: grabs my left hand as I hand her the signed receipt and holds it while talking "You know most of our presidents have been left handed."
Me: trying to free my hand from hers and bounce "Yeah, I've heard that."
Old Woman: grips my hand tighter "So was Hitler. Watch yourself."

I'm not sure if she was trying to warn me, or just make conversation, but, yeah, damn, I'm never going there ever again.