Service, Sports, and Several Sleepy Subjects

Oftentimes, we are not conscious of the service industry unless either they go beyond the call of duty or they completely bungle things up. For instance, think about the little things that the grease the wheels of our workaday modern lifestyle: a postal worker allowing your envelope that weighs a bit too much for the postage to get to its destination rather than returning to sender. These little common kindnesses play out randomly throughout the day, aiding to smooth out the random annoyances of existing.

However, nothing calls out for attention like bad service. Your day can come to a screeching halt if someone with a name tag decides to revolt against the maxim that the customer is number 1 (leaving one to feel like number 2). With weapons such as indifference, rudeness, lack of promptness, and anger-ness, these guerilla warriors can make such fundamental needs as photocopying into an activity akin to searching for Livingston, I presume.

Thus, my assessment of Dizzy Issie's, found on Charles St. next to the Central Station. First off, for a restaurant above a gay nightclub, I guess the place could have been a whole lot more...gay. The decor ranged from one side of the restaurant looking like the French salon of a Gertrude Stein (you could almost hear Alice Toklas bitching about the lack of service) versus the Ikea lit bar room with a dark color scheme that just merges with the Euro club mix of "We're In Heaven." Staffed with the requisite company of lithe boys (who, I shite you not, discussed their affinity for clubbing for the entire hour that we were there), the place was Harvey Firestein's wet dream (in fact, I think he was there, at the bar, wearing his ensemble from Hairspray).

The food was pedestrian bar-fare, but what really set Dizzy Issie's apart was the indifferent waitstaff. Our waitress disappeared in the middle of meal, leaving ELV without her soup until the very end. Actually, that's the only complaint I really have here. So, if you want some bar food while surrounded by stereotypes from Bravo shows, then go to Dizzy Issie's (or just go to Brewer's Art and have some real food).

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Before I end this post, here's the predictions:

• Carolina Hurricanes in five games
• Miami Heat in six games
• That must make me seven, this honky's gone to heaven