From: Andrea Grimes, Rick Kennedy and Matt Pulle, Dallas Observer staff writers
Dear West End,
Last night began fabulously at the Sixth Floor Museum with a Scotch tasting hosted by Chivas, at which Grimes re-re-affirmed her love for non-Chivas whiskys. Pulle, meanwhile, laughed a little too hard at the low-brow comic repertoire of the kilted Scotsman who hosted the event. Kennedy took it upon himself to confiscate leftover whisky samples for his own consumption while making multiple references to the fact he shares a last name with the president in whose memorial museum he was imbibing. It was universally agreed among the writers that this part of the evening rocked.
The trouble began when we decided to sample your eateries. Discouraged by prices at RJ's Mexican Cuisine, we were drawn in by promises of Great Food and Great Fun at Gator's across the street. After seating ourselves at a rather questionably fragrant rooftop table, we began to suspect that Gator's was, in fact, a shit hole. Sure that popular chain restaurant Joe's Crab Shack couldn't be much worse, and fueled by Grimes' recollection of multiple shrimp being promised for the low, low price of $11.99, we ventured deeper into your bowels and found ourselves on the Joe's porch.
This, West End, is where we get pissed off. Only slightly more distracting than the large breasts on prominent display at an adjacent table was the piss-poor "food" served at Joe's. Kennedy's hamburger bun was of such a firm constitution that it could possibly have served as a projectile in Lee Harvey Oswald's hands. Indeed, it was so hard it may actually have been contemporaneous with buns made in 1963 and merely petrified. Our heavily accented Texan waiter was efficient and responsive, though it didn't make up for Pulle's crawfish etouffee, which literally contained exactly one crawfish.
Desperate for a cheering-up after our disappointing trip into your tourist-taunting streets, we ascended to Reunion Tower, where we consumed delicious margaritas. At night's end, Pulle found himself the recipient of a $20 parking ticket he now refers to as the "crap tax," which he does not have to pay if he goes to other, cooler parts of Dallas such as the West Village, Mockingbird Station, Lower Greenville and Knox-Henderson, where there is abundant free parking.
West End, know that we do not appreciate last night, and we will not call you in a couple of days for a follow-up screw.
cc: Joe's Crab Shack, Gator's, University of North Texas frat guys