Lucky S.
Google
Good Misfortune: Where Your Wallet, Taste Buds, and Dignity Go to Die. Looking for an overpriced, under-seasoned existential crisis? Good Fortune Chinese Restaurant on Maize Road, Suite 110 has you covered. It's not a restaurant—it’s a food-themed emotional ambush disguised as takeout.
Customer Service: Cold, Fast, and Hostile. Let’s talk about the moment I realized I was in the wrong universe: I waited 25 minutes, standing silently like a neglected Sims character, just reading the news on my phone, trying not to age in real-time. Then—like a scene from a cooking show produced by Quentin Tarantino—he throws the food at me. Not “places it gently” or “hands it over.” Throws. Like the bag owed him money.
Did I say anything? No. I simply accepted my fate, took the bag like it was evidence from a crime scene, and walked out—wondering if I’d just been mugged but in reverse.
The Food: Sad, Pricey, and Devoid of any professionalism. And for this? They charge $5+ more per meal than the other perfectly good Oriental restaurants within a four-mile radius that won’t emotionally disembowel you at the register. You’d think that premium price gets you something special. Nah. Same generic sauces, same mushy noodles, just with an extra side of disdain and culinary confusion.
Ambience: Designed by Regret. Walking in feels like you’ve accidentally entered a break room for disgruntled robots made in some alleyway in Shanghai. The tables are sticky. The lighting is clinical. The napkins are missing, probably because they ran away to find better careers. Dining in here isn’t a choice—it’s a psychological endurance test.
Final Thoughts: You Came Here for What? Good Fortune is less a restaurant and more a cautionary tale. You leave not with satisfaction, but with a plastic bag full of overpriced food and the haunting memory of being silently judged by a man who communicates exclusively through food slinging and terrible English.
You want real Oriental food? Drive five minutes in any direction. Literally any. The bar is that low and yet somehow still too high for this place to clear.
