If you want a large fattening breakfast, this is the place to go. I once ordered their neverending plate of pancakes and made it to eight cakes before collapsing in a blissful pancake induced coma. They have lots of fancy alternate pancakes and syrups, but you listen to me, you’re gonna stick to buttermilk and maple or you don’t come back to this house no more, you understand me boy? Good. Don’t no one eat any fancy chocolate banana pancakes with strawberry syrup in this house. Not while I’m alive. Now eat some more bacon and sausage boy. It’ll make you strong like your old man. If this kind of conversation sounds pleasant to you, then you shall feel right at home with the patrons of the IHOP.
In case you were wondering, the international part of the house is the fact that they serve food from all nations, like crepes, and … Mexican omelets, and … different kinds of crepes. I like to go to IHOP when my arteries have been really bad, like they knocked over my favorite vase or something, then I say okay guys, you know what this means, it’s time to go play “House”. I really like the food at IHOP when I’m eating it, but you need impressive mental discipline to ignore the screams of agony that each bite wrings from your vessels of blood… or you need to be young and blissfully unaware of your own mortality. Good food, but you shall pay the price my son. Go in peace.