I wish I'd never eaten at Wingharts, because every other burger, every single pizza, every last french fry, I have eaten since is colored with the frozen taste of disappointment, the thawed-out sense of mediocrity, and an overwhelming feeling of despair.
The food at Wingharts utterly blows my mind. I fear that one day I will let no one cook for me save the Wingharts staff and my own grandmother.
The Shipwrecked burger almost made me cry.