Ever since I ate a $15 mediocre burger in San Juan, PR in 1994, I vowed to never enter one of these…read moretourist traps again. Not that there is anything wrong with Hard Rock Cafe, except why would someone not eat locally? If you want a T-shirt, buy the local one. But I digress.
I've since been to a few Hard Rock establishments, including the grand opening of the one on the New Jersey Boardwalk (It was the first time I met Donald Trump, and he arranged for Better Than Ezra to play for about 50 of us members of the working press.) I've also been to one in Mexico -- for a drink. And now in Italy -- for a drink.
These restaurants are pretty much all the same, with kitschy rock memorabilia on the walls and plenty of opportunities to buy the T-shirt. They've always been clean, and the staff has always been friendly.
In this case, we were seated, and our server flirted his way to our table. I certainly understand that, but not on my time. The beer was a Flea IPA, and it was just OK. Not that hoppy. I suppose ordering a beer named for the dude in the Red Hot Chili Peppers made me feel a little nostalgic though, despite that I've paid less for swill at Major League ballparks.