"How long is your wait?"
"WHAT?"
"HOW. LONG. IS. YOUR. WAIT?"
"ABOUT 20 MINUTES. Name?"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME?"
"ANITA COCKTAIL. WE'LL BE AT THE BAR."
That was the extent our Grind experience. The music was so frakkin' loud we couldn't even hear the hostess. But we'd read many good things about The Grind (one of Phoenix Magazine's Best New Restaurants... holla!), so Spouse and I were determined to try their burgers.
So far it was not going well. Our first impression was, "Um, are you sure this is it? This a strip mall. And there are motorcycles lined up out front. We are totally gonna get gay bashed here."
For homos, we're pretty brawny (Spouse got guns!). So against our better judgment, we went in anyways. After screaming our names at the hostess, we headed for the bar. Thirty seconds later, we walked out. Above the bar, there are 72 televisions (possibly a slight exaggeration) all tuned to sports. That's far too much testosterone for Date Night, and honey, that lighting is harsh.
The Grind is little more than a sports bar that serves burgers (apparently) and plays music so loud you can't even have a decent conversation. But most offensive of all? They were playing Aerosmith. That'll kill anyone's appetite.