IHOP — Restaurant in Glendale

It was a dark and stormy night, and the phone rang. Of course, it had to be a coworker. You know the type—bursting with excitement to review choral music publishing guidelines, strategies, and procedures. Not exactly the kind of meeting you dream of on your commute home. But duty calls, and so did my growling stomach. I needed a neutral ground, a place of solace, where coffee flowed like rivers and comfort food warmed the soul. Enter: IHOP.

I slid into a booth, surrendering to the inviting aroma of pancakes and bacon wafting through the air. The server, a beacon of hope in my otherwise grim evening, approached with just the right balance of attentiveness. She was friendly without being clingy, the Goldilocks of IHOP service. She seemed to understand the kind of night I was having, nodding sympathetically as I ordered the two eggs, sausage, and pancakes special.

When the plate arrived, it was a masterpiece. The eggs were fluffy, the sausage was sizzling with just enough spice, and the pancakes… oh, the pancakes. Golden discs of perfection, soft yet substantial, with syrup that glistened under the dim restaurant lighting like a beacon of hope in the stormy night. The coffee? Piping hot, strong enough to tackle choral procedures, yet smooth enough to keep my spirits high. I took a sip and briefly considered quitting my job to become an IHOP food critic.

The parking lot was vast, a veritable asphalt paradise, with spots aplenty for weary travelers like me. I didn’t have to circle or strategize—a small miracle in itself.

By the end of the meal, my coworker’s publishing concerns felt much less daunting. Could it have been the pancakes? The coffee? The cheerful server who seemed to silently cheer me on? I’ll never know for sure, but what I do know is this: I’d do it all again. IHOP, you turned a stormy night into a syrupy success...

"Modern problems require modern solutions." – Dave Chappelle

So, let me tell y’all about my little breakfast saga at IHOP this morning. Last night, I was deep in the Instagram rabbit hole, and someone had the audacity to post a video of pancakes so fluffy, so golden, so perfect, I could almost smell the butter through my phone. Naturally, I woke up with one mission: pancakes.

I walk into IHOP, fueled by hunger and pancake dreams. They seat me, I crack open the menu, and then—BOOM—DOUBLE BLUEBERRY PANCAKES jump off the page like they knew I was coming. I thought, Yes, destiny calls. I didn’t even hesitate. Ordered them faster than a kid at recess.

Ten minutes later, the plate hits the table, and… what in the syrup-covered betrayal is this? No double blueberries in sight. Nope. What I got was some basic pancakes, a drizzle of berry syrup, and a solitary, sad little blueberry hiding in the batter like it was on witness protection. I stared at the plate like, Really? This is the dream you sold me?

But hold up—shoutout to my server. Absolute rockstar. Funny, attentive, and clearly too good for this pancake drama. He explained that the price was the same for these wannabe double blueberries and the regular ones, so there was no financial foul. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d been led astray. He even asked if I wanted to send them back, but nah—I’m not about to test the mood of someone back in the kitchen.

So, I swallowed my pride (and the pancakes), drowned them in syrup, and called it a day. Were they the double blueberry masterpiece I imagined? Not even close. Did they fill the pancake-shaped void in my soul? Barely. But as Dave Chappelle would say, modern problems require modern solutions, and my solution was to eat them anyway.

Moral of the story? Always make sure you get what you order. And if you don’t? Just...

It is 10:48 right now. I am sitting here with my friend, and we have got extremely rude server. She had never explained to us that the omelette we've ordered was very spicy. We have asked her to take it back. The server, a Hispanic woman who looked like she wasn't liking my friend who is African-American man. She started lecturing him that he should have read the menu in details before waisting the food. I pointed out that we both can't read very small print without reading glasses which we both haven't had with us. My friend, 3hibactuaky is a chef himself also was suggesting she should've warned us about food being 3xtra spicy. She just jumped at him saying that he is not a real chef otherwise he would've known that the choice we have made was spicy. She said that she is real chef while she actually is a server. She just kept on going that it's a waist of food. I said that I personally can't tolerate spicy food and she could've warned us the order was spicy. We just got lectured again and again. Finally later she brought us non spicy food and with that she sarcasticaly said if we are sure that this time we won't change our mindsnand will actually eat it because now she has to explain to her boss why we ordered new food and returned old one! I kept my cool and advised her to leave us alone so we can get on with our food. Her response was a very snarky OK. I've been coming to a different location of IHOP in Tarzana for 30 years and never had such hirrible experience like...