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| - Dear 1600,
I want to like you so bad. I like your counterpart, 1410. It's got charming servers and owners, a reasonable atmosphere (when it's not chalk full of douchebags) and on the whole the food is pretty good.
And 1600, you'd be the exact same, except for one enormous flaw that is quite literally possible to ignore:
Laser DJ.
Like Honey Badger, Laser DJ don't care. Laser DJ don't give a shit. If you roll in on a Friday night, you can behold the ear-piercing wonder that is Laser DJ.
Earlier in the night, things seem normal. Safe. The waitresses are in their typical "tight and black" wear, the food is normally pretty solid (if not pricey) and the atmosphere is that of a sort of upscale sports lounge.
But then comes Laser DJ. Suddenly your meal is interrupted by a high pitched PEW! PEW! PCHEW PCHEW PCHEW!
And next thing you know, Laser DJ is spinning 90's hits for a Baby Boomer/Gen X split crowd at eardrum shattering decibels for the zero people who are actually dancing. In between each and every song you hear, Laser DJ will press the "lasers n' shit" button on his turntable and assault your ears with the same horrific laser noises. Why?
Because Laser DJ doesn't care if you enjoy your dinner. He doesn't care if nobody can talk to the person next to them. He doesn't even care that there isn't any dance floor. He came for one reason and one reason only: to play nostalgic hits accompanied by whimsical sci-fi noises - and you'll be damned if you try to stop him.
Eventually a few moms will get drunk enough to stagger around the room and awkwardly shake their hips.Somehow, a drunk guy who rode in on his motorcycle despite it being -30 outside will find them, lambast them with his creepiness and promptly return to his plate of extremely expensive wings. The whole scene is just too awkward.
1600, please fire Laser DJ. If you do, your establishment will be a much better place to spend a weekend night.
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