I've been there twice, both times with a friend we'll call Gassy Mask. The first time we went, I was immediately worried about the size of the room and about how high the man behind the counter was. Looking back, his Highness (as I've decided to call him), was probably the guy making the wings. The woman who took our order looked extremely scared and was mildly judgmental about how long we took figuring out their kind of confusing menu. Gassy Mask got chicken strips with barbecue sauce and I got the "original" flavor hot wings, which was between "mild" and the spiciest flavor on their spicy-ness scale. It then took a million years for them to make it, then two million years for the food to cool off to a safe temperature (meaning not molten lava). While we waited for our food to cool off, we both got what I always imagined chemical burns feeling like in our eyes, nostrils, and tonsils from the ridiculously spicy fumes from my hot wings. My eyes hurt for the rest of the day and my nostrils burned for about two days afterwards. When I finally gathered the courage within me to take a small nibble of the death lumps, they weren't even spicy. They had no taste to them. Gassy Mask's barbecue sauce was spicier and their barbecue flavored wings were waaayyyy lower on their spicy-ness scale than my "original" wings. The meat was fine, and their chicken tenders were pretty good, but that's pretty hard to mess up.
What about everything else though? It's gotta have a good environment if i's really that bad. Nope. They have a depressing facade of napkins in the form of a toilet paper roll of sadness shared by everyone in the tiny closet of a restaurant. Nothing extraordinarily nifty like Buffalo Wild Wings' wet wipes, which allow you to leave with dignity instead of leaving with embarrassing red stains around your mouth and on the tips of your fingers like a vampire pterodactyl. So after we came to terms with all this, we noticed there was no trash can. So when we finished weeping into our cancer wings, we decided to just ask what to do with our trash, as dumb as that sounds to the employees. They told us to place our trash trays on the counter next to the almost useless paper towel roll. We were the only people there besides another couple that left before us, deciding reluctantly to just leave their trash where they had been sitting.
So then the second time, I got chicken tenders, and so did Gassy Mask. We weren't as disappointed this time because we knew, sort of, what to expect. Gassy Mask only wanted to go back because he liked that there are planes on the walls. It was all the same thing, minus the fumes from my wings, and the disappointing flavor. The food was mediocre. It was much busier this time, so the designated trash pile was a lot larger and swarming with flies this time. We both went to the restroom while we were there and being different genders, we had different experiences. My experience was fine but he said the soap dispenser in the men's room was cracked in half on the wall. What made it worse was that an employee went in after him and he came out and went straight back to cooking wings, when there's no possible way he could've washed his hands. I know this because there's a conveniently placed window to the kitchen in the seats between the bathroom and the kitchen and we were lucky enough to occupy said seats. And their lemonade sucks. read more