| rev:text
| - WORST. DINING EXPERIENCE. OF MY LIFE. I registered for a Yelp account now, just to post the most negative review I could manage to write. The service was aggressively terrible - not intentionally rude, but negligent/incompetent to the point of rudeness. To illustrate, I include a timeline of our dinner:
6:15 - party of 2 seated; table too tall for my short girlfriend; promise made to move us to recently vacated table once it was cleared.
6:30 - water poured; drink order attempted, but since we had no drink menu, unsuccessful.
6:40 - new table cleared; moved.
6:50 - drink order taken, along with food, though only because we flagged down our waiter as he walked by.
7:15 - drinks arrive. Observe table seated after us receiving food. Gnawing hunger begins.
7:40 - ask if food will be up soon; told the "kitchen is really backed up." At no point until now had water been refilled, or had we been given any indication that we were still in our server's plans.
7:59 (exact time significant, since we'd resolved at 7:30 to ask for the manager if 8:00 arrived without our food) - food arrives. Mostly mediocre. Fried bananas were actually very good, crab dip was pretty good, and mashed potatoes were fine, but fish tacos were badly overspiced, and the chicken had less flavor than I make myself when I'm in a rush. Collard greens tasted literally like grass, though edible with enough salt applied - seriously, no butter or garlic? How complicated is it to sautée collard greens?
8:30 - water glasses refilled, at our request. Dessert order taken.
8:50 - dessert arrives, with check, as we're waiting at the bar to register our displeasure. Once home, cheesecake mostly flavorless. What little flavor it does possess comparable to licking the inside of a Snickers wrapper.
The best feature of the dinner, I have to say, was the sense of community fostered by the horrifically, preposterously, legendarily awful service. It's what I imagine the intent of hazing in a fraternity house to be - give a disparate group of people a common trauma to bring them together. We made friends with the patrons around us over the superlatively deplorable experience. Now, I call it "legendarily awful" with intent - tales of the 3-hour Dinner of Tears will be told throughout the generations in my family. I will make sure of it.
I will also make sure that neither I, nor anyone I care for, ever has the misfortune to set foot in Samba, for any reason, ever.
[For clarification: we intended to eat at Samba, but ended up at the Cabana Room downstairs. In either case, my rage remains.]
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