Well, it is Denny's. I mean ... it is fucking Denny's. (Say bye-bye to my goddamn security clearance; I am reviewing a Denny's; and, with my real name to boot!)
I saw a young lady crying at the table across from me the first time I dined here. I felt the urge to assure her that is was not that bad, but I had not received my order yet (after having placed it like twenty minutes prior), so I did not want to speak prematurely.
I was embarrassed that I could not manage to find somewhere better to eat after nearly everything else closed at 2 A.M. (including my beloved Pop-Up Pizza).
But at least I was not crying.
I mean, you have the choice of possibly shitty hot dogs on Fremont East surrounded by yuppies, or shitty previously frozen, nuked breakfasts at Neonpolis surrounded by drunken buffoons.
I went with the French Toast SlamĀ® because I had not eaten at Denny's in many years. With the immense amount of calories I would ingesting in one sitting, I would not have to eat anywhere else for about twelve hours succeeding my visit.
And they have alcohol here. Might be one of only a few locations in the nation (are there that many Dennys outside of the U.S.?); but who cares -- there is alcohol all up and down fucking Fremont. Give me a break.
Get innovative: offer cannabis like in Amsterdam! - E
Postscript. Their eggs are cage-free apparently. Have to give the evil corporation review-props for that.