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| - An ad for Dutton's might read, "DO YOU LIKE BEER THAT TASTES LIKE A NOZZLE? DO YOU LIKE WAITING EXORBITANT AMOUNTS OF TIME FOR FOOD COLDER THAN THE ICE THE FLAMES PLAY ON? COME HERE!"
So it's hockey night and you're starving. You think to yourself, "How convenient! A lounge right in the Saddledome! With food and beer and everything! (You are easily impressed) - we should GO THERE!"
No, you shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't.
The last time I was at Dutton's it was absolutely balls to the walls packed out - not a table to be had. Okay, can't fault a place for being popular. My friend and I moseyed up to the counter and decided we'd just eat right at the bar. After waiting 10 minutes to be acknowledged, he ordered a burger and fries, I opted for chicken fingers.
And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. I was absolutely starving. So we did what anyone logical would do and grabbed a few beers. My Keith's unfortunately tasted ... well, how do I put this.
You know the smell of spray paint? That mechanical, "nozzle" type taste? Imagine you mixed that with some hops and then had a flashback to that one time you were 8 years old and stuck a screw in your mouth, and that's how my beer was. But since I had already paid $100 for it I decided that I might as well finish it up.
Dish after dish went by to others around us - even people who had arrived later. I was getting annoyed, but all of their meals looked really good. The presentation was solid. They looked happy with them, so I convinced myself this was all going to be worth it.
Maybe the chef in the back was a really cute girl who saw me come in and decided to hand-make my meal for me. Maybe my chicken fingers would come cut into the shapes of hockey sticks and Jarome Iginla's weird-shaped head. Maybe she was arranging my fries into a log cabin and hiding a slip of paper with her number inside.
All relevant possibilities. None of them true, sadly.
We waited some more. And then - FINALLY! The metal lid-covered trays arrived in front of us. Finally, our meals were here! Eagerly I lifted up the lid to discover..
A FANTASTIC DELICIOUS MEAL!
Or, rather, what had been a fantastic delicious meal probably half an hour before they whipped it out from under the heat lamps and brought it over to me.
My fries were white, soggy, limp and sad. I want to make an inappropriate reference here, but I'm sure you can do that yourselves now.
My chicken fingers were dry, cold and hard. It was like Duttons was throwing one last "SCREW YOU!" at me before I went upstairs to watch the Flames lose again.
In conclusion, if you're hungry before a game, eat somewhere else. Have a beer at that "somewhere else" too, unless you're into brews that taste like the inside of a pipe.
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