What you are about to see is not Tilt’s meatball sub.
Or are they around the corner and a block?
You’ll never know!
No, seriously, you’ll never know. Nobody who does know ever comes to my apartment.
Anyway, I swore I would never have a Tilt hot dog because I’m not paying seven dollars for a fucking hot dog. This is a meatball sub, though. This is different.
So I get to Tilt and, hey, just a reminder, they’re a pinball bar. There are tons of pinball machines. So it makes me wonder why the hell they’re playing Joy Division’s “Disorder” on the sound system when you can’t hardly hear it over all the fucking pinball machines. And then also why did they have MTV on behind the bar on mute?
So, yeah, of course I got this to go. Got a Coke while I waited.
It doesn’t take long to get my order. How could it? The guy brings me my food and asks if I’d like
I’d like to take a moment to paint you a picture since the camera on my phone decided to just fail.
Close your eyes.
Shit, that was a dumb idea. How are you going to read this?
Guess I’ll just wait for you to open your -
Ah, good, you’re back.
OK, the closing your eyes part? Skip that. Just imagine that you are six years old. It’s December. You’ve been good all year. You’ve made sure of it. Why? Because there’s only one thing this year that you really really want. (In my case, being six in 1987, it would have been a Tomy Omnibot.) (But realistically, Teddy Ruxpin.) You’ve done your chores, you kept your grades up, you’ve earned merit badges, you have been the perfect child since last Christmas.
And then Christmas Day comes! You wake early, you barrel down the stairs, you attack the bottom of the tree while you wait for your parents to wake up. They come down and tell you Merry Christmas as you tear through gift after gift, looking for it! Craving it! Desiring it! The Tomy Omnibot!
One gift, two gifts, three! Four gifts, five gifts, wee! Six gifts, seven gifts, eight gifts, too! Here’s a ninth gift just for you!
…
What?
…
You look behind the tree.
…
Is - Is this it?
But I - I thought - I wa-wanted the Tomy Omnibot. Your mom tries to comfort you. Get your fucking hands off me. You turn and you make it real clear to these people what kind of a disafuckingpointment this is: We had a goddamned deal. I bust my ass being a good little boy from December twenty sixth to December twenty fifth! I have not said bad words! I’ve cleaned that shit-stink catbox every day! I take out the garbage in this motherfucker! And I do it every day while pulling in straight As and not kicking the shit out of Adam Dunning across the street! I get screwed in my fucking ass every birthday because you shitheads had to birth me in January when everybody’s burnt out on buying presents! I ask for one! thing! A Tomy Omnibot! I didn’t “hint”! I didn’t “imply”! I didn’t leave fucking “clues”! I told you fuck-wits to your faces, in plain goddamned English back in April! April! that I wanted a Tomy Omnibot! You had plenty of time to save up for it, so don’t give me any of this bullshit about Santa’s factory being out of ‘em! I’m six years old, I’m not stupid, goddamnit!
I’m murdering both of you in your sleep tonight! Jesus help me!
AAAnnnddd that is pretty much how I felt when I opened the box because I had gone six hours thinking about getting a meatball sub and what I got?
What I got was not a nine dollar sub. Five, five fifty max.
Let’s address the size. Again, camera on my phone not helpful this evening so we’re going to have to use words: It fit completely on a hot dog bun. Not a jumbo hot dog bun, not a footlong hot dog bun, a regular off the grocer’s shelf hot dog bun. It had a few random pulls of mozzarella on it. No fresh basil, because there’s only so much you can fit on a fucking hot dog bun.
So I took it home, tucked it in my mouth, giggled internally at how stupid this all was that I was about to tweet Tommy a picture of a meatball sub because, hey, something good has to come out of this, and where the fuck are the pics?
Jesus help me.
So how did this taste?
How did this nine dollar, three tiny balls on a hot dog bun taste?
It tasted like I should have gone to Subway.
Hmm? What’s that?
Oh, no, that’s the review. I’m saying that I could have gotten a sandwich twice as large for half the price that tastes exactly the same as this one at Subway. I couldn’t taste the mozzarella, any seasoning in the beef was overshadowed by the marinara, and what can I say about a hot dog bun? It’s white bread. Hell, Subway at least offers me Tuscan Herb and Sangria bread or whatever.
And I’m not just saying this because I’m pissed off about the price even though I’m pissed off about the price. I saw how small it was and I thought, “Well, maybe it will just blow my mind when I taste it,” and there I was let down, too.
Just like that day. Thirty one years ago. When everybody else got a Teddy Ruxpin Tomy Omnibot.
I really really hate talking shit about local businesses. I went over my rationale back in the opening to the Sandcastle episode but if you can’t be bothered to click the link, it’s like this: I know that one review from a barely read sandwich blog isn’t going to destroy a local business, I get where I sit in the ecosystem. That doesn’t mean that small stature gives me license to talk endless shit about somebody who put together a business plan, had to recruit angel investors and take out variable interest loans for start up capital, put their recipes and their food and their reputations on the line, and bravely ventures into an industry with an absurd failure rate.
But then there’s this part: THIS PLACE SELLS SEVEN DOLLAR PLAIN HOT DOGS AND HAS THE NERVE TO CHARGE YOU A QUARTER FOR ONIONS AND IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS FLATLY BIZARRE, LOOK AT THE MENU.
So, I feel obligated to say it: I feel like I got ripped off. I feel like I paid twice what that sandwich was worth in terms of portion-to-dollar ratio, no matter how high quality the ingredients were, which doesn’t matter because none of them separately or in concert with each other tasted any different from the cheap Sysco crap I’m handed at any other place.
I get it, shame on me for not investigating further before putting down my debit card, I really only feel ripped off, they didn’t deliberately scam me, every clue was given that this was not going to be a satisfactory experience, and it was nowhere near as bad as the Sandcastle incident.
But still… Tilt?
Eragh…
I’m not going to say don’t give them your money. You can have fun drinking and playing Pinball there. Drink prices are in line with most other places and most of the machines take two tokens (psst! Up/Down’s machines take only one!) but I really can’t recommend eating there. Or getting it to go.
Comments
Post a Comment