I almost received a new Indian name. It was when Sara and I went to our third Denny's restaurant in three states on the same day. I had been craving Belgian waffles for a week.

It started innocently enough at the end of June. I was meeting Sara for lunch at the Denny's in Window Rock, Ariz., and, as I waited, I perused the menu and my hungry eyes fixated on Belgian waffles.

Sara -- keeping me waiting, as usual -- allowed me plenty of time to fantasize about that delicious waffle, sweet maple syrup and scrumptious, sizzling bacon.

After Sara ordered some vegetable-laden monstrosity, I boldly said, "Belgian waffle!"

The waitress said, "Oh, you know what ...?"

You may not know this, but nothing good ever follows "Oh, you know what ...?"