Yes, sometimes you crave processed mystery meat burgers, grease laden onion rings, and something that resembles french fries, and nothing will stop oneself from attaining this type of meal and stuffing it down your gourd. No matter how much self discipline you think you have, and the intellect to realize that this is not an endeavor that you should really be partaking in, all sensibilities get thrown out the window as you happily shove that 7th or 8th burger into your mouth. Yes, White Castle will do this to a person like some mind control experiment gone horribly wrong.
As a group of us were sitting on the back patio of the Gaslight Pub one summer night enjoying many beers and shots at a get together thrown by a friend the indescribable feeling of hunger grew from within, and before we knew it, there was a mad dash across the street to the amazingly located White Castle. How ridiculous it is that this place is right across the street from a pub that will allow you to bring in outside food. Yes – winning!
The actual store is pretty clean, super bright, and lit up like a Christmas tree or Las Vegas casino. It’s a giant night light that acts as a beacon to draw in the drunken starving masses such as ourselves. The counter staff was easy to work with and the food was served up hot and fast. No one even batted an eye when I ordered the Crave Case. Seriously, I could have eaten this whole box of meat destruction by myself if I did not have to go back to the bar and share it. Don’t judge – I have no shame! I am not an animal!!!
Kind of appropriate that this place is on Queens Blvd, otherwise known as the “Boulevard Of Death” for all the fatalities that have happened on this road over the years. Fitting, as I had the “Bowel Movement Of Death” the morning after eating all this – burgers, onion rings, fries, oh my! Talk about human draino! If you have a problem going – this stuff will do the trick. I think I dropped a weight class after I was finished! Yet, I still oddly crave it and will probably eat it again during another drunken stupor.
My bowels hate me. My toilet bowl hates me. I never learn do I?