| rev:text
| - This review is about customer service.
Let's just say you get out of the joint on a Tuesday and you're jonesing for something to eat and something to drink. You've been incarcerated for awhile. You have forty dollars.
Go to the Winking Lizard in Macedonia and get wings. Do it. They have a special where you can get a wing for forty cents and even though that seems like a lot, forty cent wings pile up on you in a hurry and the beer and all them TVs mess you up and its a madhouse food frenzy Caligula bathroom blowout kind of goodness. I got chicks to buy me the beer so you can bet I got me a lot of wings. Not a hundred like you'd think because at some point I got greedy and switched to 'boneless wings' which is a silly name because no chicken could fly using these little wads of meat in any sort of quixotic exploration of the heavens. Orville and Wilbur Wright would have just ate them boneless 'wings' but you know they'd be cussing everybody out because those two gents with their mustaches and top hats flat out know what's a wing and what is a meat gob. Me too.
You can swallow a boneless wing whole and that gulp only cost you thirty five cents. You can hurt Gaia's sensibilities wolfing on really cheap wings sauced up in some hot red buttery slurry. And you drink beer in giant garbage-can sized glasses. All on tap and just fine.
Here's the customer service part. The waitresses in this place smile no matter what you say to them. At the thirty or forty wing mark I tried to piss one off. One of the wings was sort of busted up and I asked her if it was a post-mortem wound or was I eating a victim of animal cruelty. She smiled. I switched gears and went with the crude male chickens are cocks stuff but she didn't care.
She goes, "Your friend at the bar wonders if you'd like another drink?"
Sigh.
"Sure, I'll go with the Ommegang Thirsty Dog Nutbrown Chocolate Stout IPA from Reinheissendorfer Brewery. A fine pour, indeed."
She smiles and gets me a beer. Because the customer service in this place is awesome. She was too awesome to get angry.
Wednesday morning I decided to be adult about the resultant excretory explosion that had been inevitable from the start and perfectly foul in the most incredible way. I called the Northeast Ohio Sewer District to apologzie for what I had done to their waste treatment facilities.
Bernice was not good at customer service. She didn't have a clue what I was apologizing for even when I told her to go look out back at the lagoon. Go look, I said, I'm sure its there by now. She called me sir a few times and put me on hold and she's all explain it again, please and then hung up on me. Fine. When that vinegar-based, chile pepper-chicken, stomach acid, dark beer, circus peanut (don't ask) packet of death hits their clay-based solid waste flocculation system, that thing is going to crash. As it should.
No self-respecting clay-based solid waste flocculation system should endure an insult like the one I gave it Wednesday morning.
Three stars so Jason will get off my case.
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