You kind of want to like this place since they sincerely do not give a flying F about anything, and they not only want you to know it, they want everyone to know it. It is strange to admire from a distance the cat's cradle of awful service, botched orders, one customer yelling about his awful experience (not me, I don't yell, I give searing one star reviews from the comfort of a corner office with a window) and a soda fountain that seems to have been set to dispense only muddy water or burnt hair flavored water (for the days you are watching your figure when you just became single again, or as I like to call it, dropping 130 pounds of useless) I can in some small way appreciate their attitude behind the counter that life is hard and did not turn out the way you wished it had in the long long ago when you were optimistic about things, however that sort of feeling is better channeled into productive things, like Yelp reviews and/or knitting, rather than directed at some guy who had the misfortune of running late this morning but still needing a little bit of the tacquito love drenched bacon taste to get through a difficult morning.
This is kind of a last chance outpost south on 59 if you don't pull off into fast food row on Richmond or anything uptowny. So its on the right side of the SW Freeway if you are headed south. That is the only thing they do correctly.
Soda orders are always botched. They repeat back to you what you ordered: medium Diet Dr Pepper. Okay. I have never received that here. Diet coke, small, large, burnt hair flavored brown water, what smelled like dishwater ... all of that has been received. You do not want to get in the way of me and my soda before the sun is up.
Potato tacquito: falling apart, proportionally maybe a dot of egg in seven seas (no, not the c-word) of potato, drippy. Fail.
Bacon tacquito: one tiny little supermodel sliver of bacon, oh look here is where the missing eggs went from the potato tacquito, dripping, falling apart, disgusting. The eggs were rubbery. And the tortilla was shiny with grease. This is not my first Whataburger adventure, I know what these things are supposed to be like, this was just not good in any which wich way at all. Fail. Epic fail. And I mean that in the Bond. James Bond. Kind of way.
Hash brown little nubs: they were the least of my worries, but the sore point here is that they were out of ketchup this morning. Out of ketchup? Are you &=%$$$*&h% serious? Further, it was a song and dance routine to get a second picante sauce package, them being so generous to include one already, it seems as if I had asked them to look through my vacation photos, move a sofa, and help me "shred documents" into the fireplace as I watched over it all from a high backed leather chair adorned with human skulls as I pet my dog and laugh semi-evilly. Do your job, less attitude, and be more generous with picante sauce. It is muy bien. Share more of it with the world - whackaburger Corporate is not going to fire you for making it rain picante sauce packages to your customers, I promise.
As far as breakfasts go, this experience was worse than Hitler. This was worse than that time Grima Wormtongue prepared breakfast. Not just no, but no way Jose. read more