Rahiem B.
Yelp
Oh, where do I begin with my delightful misadventure at this restaurant? Picture this: I plop myself down at the bar, eagerly anticipating a culinary experience that would make my taste buds dance. Instead, I was greeted by the waitress/bartender, who seemed to be auditioning for the role of "Most Unbothered Server of the Year."
As I settled in, she handed the person next to me a drink with such grace that I thought a royal decree was about to be read. I thought, "Fantastic! She'll be over here in a jiffy!" But alas, my optimism was met with a glass that could only be described as a relic from the last guest and a signed receipt--because nothing says "welcome" like a piece of paper with someone else's name on it, right?
Fifteen minutes went by, and I found myself in a riveting game of "Count the Glasses" as she stacked and cleaned like it was the Olympic sport of the century. Finally, I decided it was time to break the ice and waved her down. I kindly pointed out that I was, in fact, not part of the glassware collection and requested a menu. Her response? A delightful attitude that could curdle milk. She handed me a menu as if it were a hot potato and I asked for a vodka lemonade. She must've thought I was ordering a unicorn, as she neglected to inquire about the vodka type.
Imagine my surprise when I overheard her telling her co-worker that I was "rushing" her. Rushing? Sweetheart, I was merely attempting to survive in this desert of neglect! The patrons on either side of me promptly chimed in, confirming that I was not, in fact, the lone wolf in this wilderness of poor service.
When my drink finally arrived, it was in a tall glass and tasted like a sad attempt at mixology. After two sips, I decided my taste buds deserved better than this liquid regret, so I moved on to the Parmesan fries, which, surprisingly, were a triumph! Kudos to the cook--clearly, someone in this establishment knows what they're doing.
As I nibbled on my fries, a fellow diner was calling for their child, only to be met with the other bartender's unsolicited "Shut up." Ah yes, nothing screams "welcome to a fine dining experience" like a random outburst of rudeness in front of a crowd.
In conclusion, as a seasoned traveler, I can confidently say this was the worst airport dining experience I've ever endured. From ill-fitting uniforms to a front-end staff that could use a lesson in basic hospitality, I implore anyone passing through Charlotte airport to steer clear of this culinary catastrophe. Save yourself! Your taste buds and sanity will thank you!
