Upon entering Riazzi's, Kevin and I were unsure if we had stepped into an Italian restaurant or a nursing home. The patterns on the carpet and booths were horrifyingly dated, and the place was dingy and dark. The only thing that kept me from whole heartedly believing that we were visiting my great grandmother's home was the waiters/waitresses/bus boys playing Rhianna full blast in the kitchen as they talked loudly about their personal lives and friend drama and hair cuts. Food was fine. Nothing to write home about. But the atmosphere, oh gosh. Never again.