Dining Out: McAllister's Deli

Towers used to be the red-headed stepchild of malls back when I lived in Roanoke in 2000. Back then, Tanglewood was still happening, and all of the mall walkers relegated themselves to Crossroads.

Now, though, Towers is getting some new things and coming up, albeit somewhat slowly. I had a chance to go to the newish restaurant, McAllister's Deli, in between the Colonial Ave main entrance and CiCi's Pizza. The place is big, with tons of seating that you mosey through on your way to the ordering counter in back.

Being a vegetarian, I love the fact that they serve veggie chili, not to mention it's quite good. The veggie spud and a macadamia nut cookie completed my meal, which I actually split with my wife, since it was large enough to fill my plate.

The staff was mostly teens, who were nice and helpful, busing the table and refilling drinks without being in any way overwhelming. It was a little tough interpreting tipping etiquette, though, since my receipt had no slot for tip, and I never carry cash. I guess next time, I'd tip much like one might in a Chinese buffet place.

The environment was nice: good lighting, nostalgic pictures and memorabilia adorning the walls without it being too busy like in the fictional "Shenanigans" from the film Waiting. The price - especially considering my wife and I were sharing - was very reasonable - rounding out at around $10 - $11 for the both of us, though we drank water and the coffees we'd brought with us.

So while I can't speak much to the rest of the menu, McAllister's spuds and chili proved well worth the visit, as did the welcome courtesy of the staff and the roomy, clean dining area.

Adventures in Wal-Marting

Unfortunate Wal-Mart stories are nothing new. Normal people - that is, people who don't think of going to Wally World as "getting out of the house" or "taking the kids to do something fun" - usually dread the Wal-Mart experience much like going to the dentist, but suffer it anyway due to incredibly cheap crap all in one place. (Still not sure why that's appealing, but...)

Our last trip saw us ringside for a brewing brawl between a lanky white woman with bad teeth and parachute pants that I didn't even know they still sold and a large black woman who was so close to popping out of her strapless top that I thought my old physics teacher might consider it a case study. The fight was over who was next in line: I guess the black woman had waited already and was then allowed to come to the front upon her return, and the white lady didn't like that too much, slapping her goods upon the counter before the other could.

Of course, this entire time the 18 year old behind the counter was tacitly exacerbating the situation by looking down at the floor and failing to explain anything. Though - when it had partially diffused - she was kind enough to mutter something derogatory about the white lady under her breath, which started the whole affair over again.

I love watching a good fight, so I was tempted to stick around, but my wife wanted to leave since we had just been waiting an hour trying to get a price on a single item after pulling two employees from stasis, only to have them run for the back under the guise of "finding help." The third, actually at the customer service desk, said she was going to check on the item and acutally clocked out and left. Classic.

The funny thing is, when we began to recount this funny story to three completely different sets of friends and relatives, they all said - I'm not kidding - "It was Valley View, wasn't it?"

I'm a data analyst, and this is the sort of thing we tend to call "statistically significant."

Why is it that the Valley View Wal-Mart is so lame? The demographics, at first inspection, seem to be about the same as most other Wal-Marts I've ever been to, and the employees care just as little about their jobs as they do at every other Wally World, so what am I missing here?

Wii like free

Because I want to keep Tramping Roanoke completely germane to the Roanoke area, I almost didn't write about our Wii party on Saturday night.

I mean, you can play Wii anywhere, right? What the heck does that have to do with Roanoke? Thinking about it further, however, I think it does have a lot to do with Roanokers, because we don't always have scores of cool free stuff to do like my brother can find within spitting distance of his condo in LA.

So, sure, why shouldn't playing Wii Sports and Mario Kart classify as something germane to Roanokers? After all, in these more economically unsound times, maybe we shouldn't flock to the mall and the movies when we're looking for some fun and escapism. You might have a little Wii soreness the next day, wondering if maybe you'd gotten into a fight the evening before and couldn't remember it, and you do have to clean up for friends - boot the dogs outside and light candles to cover the aroma of the laundry you just gleaned from the floor and shoved into the bedroom.

But even if you eat and have a few drinks, a nice Wii party with friends is a small fraction of what a night out would cost, it lasts longer, and you're practically guaranteed a fun time.

Well, unless that friend of yours who can't stand losing gets a little tight and starts swearing about how you cheated at Wii Boxing. But hey, what are the odds of that happening?

Traffic Talk: Roanoke to Charlotte

It's quite often I go down to Charlotte, and I've explored some varying ways of getting there, expanding out from my typical I-81 to I-77 to I-85 route once I could literally say out loud which sign was coming up next. My dad, who's coming up from Charlotte to visit (and give us a couch) is choosing another route through Greensboro and then hopping on 220 to come into town.

There's also the 221 route, which means going down Brambelton Ave until you meet up with I-77. Here's my experience with these three routes, and I'm interested to hear others' input or other route ideas and observations.

1. I-81. If you're already living in Salem, you might as well go this way. Sure, it's pretty boring, the only real change of scenery or turn in the road to keep you awake is at Wythville where you hop on I-77. This is the route for those who want to get there quickly and with all interstate miles.
However, I-77 bottlenecks almost exactly 17 miles outside of Charlotte each weekday morning and then again during rush hour (in and out of Charlotte, respectively). It doesn't let up until the HOV lane comes up several miles later past the Huntersville exit. On weekends, though, or in the middle of the day, you're fine.

2. 220 to I-85. There are a few turns in here; not just 220 to 85, but it's still only a few. I have to admit, this is my favorite route because the drive on 220 is both scenic and with a lower speed (55mph much of the way). You can still open it up a little once you're on 85. You'll see plenty of places to stop. It's not as winding as you might think, either, though I admit that - due to the turns - I use my GPS.
If there's bound to be traffic on I-77, this is the way to go, since it bypasses it and goes right to 85, which - while sometimes heavy with traffic - rarely slows. I have had this route prove faster than I-81 as often as not, and I can tell a difference in how much gas I burn if I try a few hyper-miling techniques.

3. 221 to I-77. What can I say? If you like really winding roads and lots of flora and fauna, then 221 might be your best bet. The turns are so sharp at some points that it feels almost comic. My experience with this route was at night, so I swerved out of the way of a small herd of deer, a skunk, and an opossum; while the latter two might have proved only a smelly inconvenience, the former would have torn my little car to pieces. So, I don't really see taking this route again unless I'm in absolutely no hurry (though it didn't add many minutes, it added a few). I could see this burning a little more gas, as well.

So let me know if there's a way I'm missing or other points to consider in the trek to Charlotte. I'll ask my dad what he thought of the 220 route, seeing as how it was an attempt to evade some of the inevitable wind that would have been more prevalent on I-77 and I-81.

A Weight Watchers Dinner

Last night was dinner with Weight Watchers friends whom we have seen religiously each Monday for a few months now. Of course, knowing I was weighing in, I didn't each much for breakfast or lunch, so by dinner I had plenty of room and was rather hungry.

Our friends live on Morehead in Southeast, so we already got the warning about not excepting unsolicited candy from strangers and were told to wear our neutral gang colors. Aside from a few rather *ahem* "busy" front porches and a few cars that haven't moved since the Diamondbacks won the World Series, the neighborhood seemed pretty tame.

Inside, a small television displayed a color image of the front yard, a VCR catching any shady action on behalf of the neighborhood watch, of which our hosts were staunch members.

Dinner was pizzas on portobello mushrooms and a pumpkin pie magically made to have as few calories as possible (though not at all short on taste). Since everything was much better for you than normal, I made up for it by eating too much.

After dinner we were regaled by tales of the neighborhood and all of the drama therein implied, to include 2am spousal fistfights and a kid who egged everything within a stone's throw on an almost daily basis (to include our hosts' swimming pool).

We left a little after nine with still-full bellies and lots of stories. Sure, I didn't meet any of the characters they'd told us about on the ten foot walk to the car, but ask me if I still locked the car door just in case.

Umm, yep.

A Break in Sunday Routine

In the spirit of trying new things, my wife and I went to a different church this past Sunday. That's not to say that we normally go to church, but when we do, it's Presbyterian. So we thought we'd branch out and try out...wait for it...Colonial Presbyterian Church.

Okay, so we didn't branch too far, but it's still something different. At least the drive through winding residential neighborhoods was a change.

Sure, we might have been partially motivated by the soup, salad, chili and potato bar immediately following the service, and the fact that our friends were working the event to raise money for a mission trip to South America.

The church is slightly smaller than I'm used to, with a capacity of - taking a shot in the dark - 200 people. It was at about 60% capacity on Sunday, with a pretty eclectic age range. I usually find that churches have active youths and active elderly groups, but anything from 18-55 is a little lacking. I got too narrow of view of Colonial Pres to glean that information, though.

Regardless, the people were extremely nice, the food was very tasty (with many options - even vegetarian). The sermon was well thought-out and a story I had only heard once or twice (Elijah, if you're interested). Typically, the sermon is the only part of the service I really care about anyway: singing and ritual mantras do little to lift my soul, let's say.

So despite the sad news that our friends will soon be leaving us for up north, I'm sure we'll make it back to Colonial Pres before then, perhaps - though not necessarily - contingent upon the occasion. It's hard to pass up good chili.

Valentine's Day goes to the dogs

For Valentine's Day, I had been made aware via a Roanoke Times article on Thursday that - by and large - we Americans would be spending a good bit less on V-Day gifts this year due to a sluggish economy: roughly, $100 each, down from $125 last year. This was a little surprising, I have to say, since even in a good year I wouldn't spend $100 on just a gift (excluding activities).

Apparently, my wife was of the same mind because my gift from her only cost us gas to get to the Salem Civic Center for the AKC Agility, Obedience, and Rally Trials.

I had no idea they were going on, but I enjoy working with our own dogs on the agility equipment I got for Christmas.

We went in the morning and stayed 'til about 1pm, enjoying the two sections of trials amid perhaps 200 other spectators. On one side were larger dogs, with amateur and smaller dogs on the other. Having a bird's eye view of the process gave me tons of ideas for training my girls, as well as reinforced some intuitive steps I was already taking.

The crowds were more vocal and supportive than during the daytime trials of the annual horse show, which may speak to the tightness of dog-training circles or it could be that making too much hoopla while around skittish horses is a faux pas.

There were all manner of trainers: quite young to much older, most in workout garb so they could run alongside their dogs and not slow them down. Some were totally serious where others praised their dogs no matter how well they did or what facets of the complex course they might have tripped up on.

Inspired by the event and my recent (and successful) training sessions with my mutts, my wife and I are going to join the next class of the Star City Canine Training Club.

Despite a slightly pricey (but very good) Valentine lunch at Abuelo's thereafter, followed by a fun night of good conversation over a shrimp pot with friends, we managed to keep this Valentine's Day under budget, full of fun, and with plenty of the most important element: time together.

Plantains from Spain are far from plain

I do much of my grocery shopping at the Towers Mall Kroger's, thanks largely to the new gas station at the bottom of the hill and the fact that I get a dime off gas for every $100 I spend on groceries (or gift cards!).

I may not be proud of basing my entire shopping habits on the consumption of oil, especially since my commute is a whopping 15 minutes at worst. But that Kroger's does have other qualities, and one of those is the selection of weird foods I've never tasted.

Enter the Plantain. Now, I know Plantains aren't from Spain, but none of the other countries rhymed, and I needed a snazzy title. The plantain is a really big banana, though obviously not a regular banana like you had in your grade school lunchbox because the hide is thicker.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who's unfamiliar with how you're supposed to eat these things, cause the sticker clearly stated specific instructions on how to tell when it's ripe (it's mostly black) and how to prepare it, which is by frying it up after chopping into 3/4 inch slices.

So last night, that's just what I did, having no idea if I was supposed to spray the pan with Canola or maybe throw in some olive oil. I opted for the latter when they started to stick, and because it made a far more gratifying sizzle that made me feel like I was doing something.

The wife was out with a friend, so beyond the sticker's instruction, I was pretty much winging it. I figured that - since it was fried - it must not be too sweet, so I slapped some Red Hot on it, and some of that other hot sauce with the rooster on it like you see in Indian food restaurants.

The end result you can see for yourself, but the taste: delicious. I got off kinda lucky there, I think; they probably tasted good to begin with, and there was only so much I could screw up. But I dipped them in a little ranch and they tasted a little like chipped sweet potato.

The morale of the story? Sure, Roanoke's not as big or as cosmopolitan as some larger cities where plantains surely play second fiddle to really creepy foods, but it's nice to know that if I want to play around with my dinner, exotic food is only minutes away.

Mill Mountain Coffee's New(ish) Locale

Mill Mountain Coffee's new downtown digs, though my review is a little late in coming, are pretty nice if you haven't had a chance to check it out yet. They moved a whopping thirty feet to just across the street, but with some marked improvements.

1. The bar with the open windows right as you walk in is nice; granted, the old place had some window-front real estate, but the new one feels more inviting and is roomier, so I find myself sitting at the windows more now.

2. More seating. The older locale wasn't so crowded that you felt claustrophobic or anything, but it could easily end up where you had to take your coffee to go or hover around waiting for a seat. Now, there's plenty of seating in front, in a little sub-section across of the "fixins" and higher up in the back.

3. Speaking of seating, now there's the outdoor area to sit in, which feels kind of semi-private given that traffic through that pay lot wouldn't be too much. Plus, while I have yet to bring my mutt to the shop, I feel like I could have my dog out there on nice days while I drink coffee and read the paper.

Many things are the same: same community bulletin board full of local events, classes, and the like. Art and photography by local artists, often for sale. Even some good reading material, with local pubs such as Bella, Lifestream, Inc, and (usually) a copy or two of The Roanoke Times floating around.

During the first two freezing Fridays of Dickens of a Christmas, Mill Mountain was one of my few places to warm up and glean fuel for the hours of commerce. While their coffee is not quite as bold as many Starbucks blends, I try to make it my choice when I'm in the neighborhood and the inevitable siren song of coffee, cookies, and good conversation rings in my ears.

The Roanoke Rush

During an inevitable and long put-off trip to Wally World, I discover that dog food is still missing in any significant quantity, forcing my to buy a paltry 17 pound bag for my 45 pound dog.

As you might imagine, this is the aftermath of the mad rush to stock up on anything from bread to milk to dog food whenever inclement weather threatens like it did late last week.

Friends and co-workers alike knew of and acknowledge the indefatigable routine of Salemites and Roanokers stocking up like it's the Armageddon when a day or two of ice or snow looms, and yet they still likewise acknowledge the need to "pick a few things up" despite the rush.

I spent a few winters in Montana where maybe such a habit is justified, but Roanoke? A friend of mine who works at Atlas Cold Storage (which supplies frozen goods to Kroger's) tells me how business there booms whenever weather predictions turn gray, like some pre-cognition of winter storms if anyone missed the weather update on the way to work.

Now, this might have some historical context, like maybe back in 1903 Roanokers faced a giant winter storm for which they failed to prepare, resulting in dozens of unfortunate souls sealed in their homes without a spot of food or wood to burn.

That or some likened story might have been the catalyst for this mysterious hoarding instinct (and if so, I'd love to hear about it), but otherwise, it's a little odd from bird's eye view.

Google Street View Visits Roanoke

Whenever I first gave Google Earth a try, I was impressed. I put in my address in Tempe, Arizona and you could clearly see the top of my condo, complete with my seemingly bad parking job (I loathe double-parking, so maybe it was just the angle). I put in my brother's address in LA, and - sure enough - it held even more detail.

Then I put in the address of some family and friends back in Roanoke, and...trees. Lots of trees. And some street names. That's not to say they were detailed trees that covered the house - it was just that bad of a picture.

Thus, I was expecting the same thing when I first tried Google Street View. Actually, I wasn't expecting anything at all because I was sure it wouldn't even be an option when Googling my house here.

But then, there it is - street view - so I click it. Suddenly I'm looking at the front of my house in greater detail than the aerial pic of my Arizona condo not two years earlier.

You can see that damn file cabinet to the left of my front door on the porch that my wife bought at a yard sale as a "project" that she was going to strip and decoupage.

Okay, so this likely has a lot less to do with Roanoke coming up in the world and a lot more to do with the godlike power of Google, but it was still packed a wow factor. And while I think that it really doesn't have much to do with navigation, I'm not among those who feel it's invading my privacy, either. I guess it just makes living in a city that's been pretty low profile feel a little more - I don't know - open. That could be good, right?

Traffic Talk: Jefferson St to Memorial Ave

As a new weekly feature to Tramping Roanoke, I've started this regular post about traffic, routes, and getting around town. I hope this will spark some interest with finding shortcuts, debating what routes work best, and - in the end - maybe inspiring some more exploration and wandering.

As my inaugural post: Jefferson St. to Memorial Ave.

This is a popular route for those who work downtown and live in SW. With the westbound road of Salem Ave now open and (relatively) free of holes and the like, I finally have my route from work to home open again.

I've heard some differing opinions on the fastest way west, but - having been forced to use Campbell Rd while Salem Ave west of 2nd was under construction - I have to disagree with fans of Campbell.

For one thing, if you're going to 13th St bridge to take Memorial Ave anywhere, you'll have to take two leftward moseys that for someone lacking in direction propensity like me, is asking for a navigational SNAFU. If heading east on Campbell, of course, these are simply merges, but heading west you'll have to recognize which road at the two forks is still Campbell.

Too, for anyone who's tried turning onto 13th Street from a westbound road, you'll very likely have to wait on a light. When you turn south on 13th St from Salem Ave, however, you not only don't have a stoplight, you have right of way (the eastbound lane has a stop sign).

Granted, the lights from Salem south to Black Dog Salvage are a little aggressive, so you're likely to catch one of them, but even taking Campbell, you still have one to deal with there at Christian Car Care.

I'm always entertaining new routes, so if anyone has other ideas (assuming it's not pulling a turbo boost over a moving train or riding willy-nilly down an alley the width of a shopping cart) please email me or post a comment.

Smoking ban? There are still smokers?

Today in the general assembly a bill was passed for a limited ban on smoking in Virginia restaurants, to exclude private clubs and restaurants with ventilated, separate smoking sections. So what does this mean for us? Probably not much.

I mean, the general usage of tobacco has dropped so dramatically in the last 15 years that under torture, I would likely be unable to tell you which restaurants I frequent that even have smoking sections. This doesn't mean that the bill is arbitrary, or that it won't affect anyone; I have smoker friends who won't be too pleased at the idea of not lighting up after a meal or over a beer.

Only that - with the way things were already headed - I don't know that an official ban is as necessary as, say, balancing the state budget. If left entirely to market forces, I think the trend would have sloped downward anyway.

That said, living in Tempe, Arizona when smoking was banned overnight in all indoor facilities, I didn't know how to feel. A part of me wanted to stick up for smokers, but the other part - the part with clothes that didn't smell and that breathed a little easier the next morning - was tacitly overjoyed that the ban occurred...but only after the fact.

It's debatable, too, whether per pack tax on tobacco lends to fewer smokers, and whether even greater taxes would choke smokers' pocketbooks to the point of quitting, either. Using tobacco taxes to fund cancer research, though - as if often the case and was in Arizona - I think is a little silly.

First of all, the cancer research business is alive and well financially, and the gain or lack of a few million per state isn't going to change that too much. Secondly, putting that onus on smokers may not make them quit or smoke less, but it sure will make them poorer.

From what I've read about further tobacco taxes in Virginia, though, they would supposedly go to supplementing Medicare, which - whether you believe in Medicare or not - is money that would have to come from somewhere. Still pretty lame for smokers, but a little better.

However, despite any efforts by the state to stymie smoking, keep non-smokers from second-hand exposure, and to glean much-needed funding from a tax on vice, it's really just bringing spitting in the ocean.

Smoking was already on a sharp decline, and will likely continue in that vein until an indiscernible plateau of those who will defy all odds and any legislation to light on up, and who is state to tell them No?

GIve Downtown Some Credit

Right now, my hair is much longer than it should be. I'm reporting for Guard duty down in Charlotte looking more like Lt Dan than Forest Gump, and it's all because all I've got in my wallet is a check card.

Okay, it's largely because I put off getting a haircut until a couple of hours before heading down here, but it's partially due to downtown Roanoke businesses hanging onto the antiquated medium of paper currency with might and main.

My regular barber takes check, which is better than cash only, especially considering I haven't seen cash in like, eight months or so, and then it was just because I found a 20-spot at the Towers Mall CVS. Alas, he was sick, so I was relegated to wandering downtown looking to put the two-guard smack-down on my mop - but to no avail.

Don't get me wrong, I think that if a business wants to deal only in cash - hell, only in gold nuggets - then let no one tell them otherwise. But that same establishment shouldn't look to the sky and wonder why there are no customers, or blame a sluggish economy on lousy business.

I've never run a brick and mortar store, so perhaps dealing with credit cards and their fee structures is a headache or economically difficult to justify, but I'd like to think that - fees or no - it is a natural evolution of commerce that is either embraced as a boon to business or rejected and thereafter is an anchor that has real costs in lost customers.

Either way, my hair is still long, and some Roanoke barbers are still that much poorer because of it. So nobody wins.

Dinner and a movie...sorta

When my wife asked if I'd like to come along to a girlfriend's afternoon get-together, she had me at "free food." I figured it would be a little gender weighted on the female side, but - aside from the guy showing up to give a ride after the affair was over - I remained, in fact, the only dude there.

We were tasting Two Sisters Gourmet, though what I saw was a table full of food - most of which I could eat despite maintaining a vegetarian diet. So I loaded my plate while saying hello to those I knew and introducing myself to those I didn't. I had a full plate by the time I sat down, though everyone else was tasting each thing in turn.

Only slightly embarrassed, I waited until each item was introduced until eating it on my plate and making a few comments about this or that.

My wife and I decided on the sweet cheese ball and the garlic dip seasoning.

However, while there I also met a fellow movie reviewer: Elizabeth "Biz" from Grandin Film Review. I told her about my own movie blog, and we talked movies for a while over cheese, bread, and crackers dipped in anything within arm's reach.

With no cable, I hadn't caught her local show, but they are also available online along with previews and snippets of the films being reviewed, with an impressive archive that must stretch back to their beginnings in 2006.

So, free gourmet food and a chance to talk film - who cares that I was greatly outnumbered?

Plus, there was always the testosterone-filled Superbowl mere hours away to ensure that gender neutrality was not far afield.

Superbowl Reunion Bittersweet

While I was distraught to see the Arizona Cardinals narrowly miss a victory after so many years, coming together for a Superbowl party at a friend's house in Salem was a rare treat. How rare? Pretty much once a year, since there were some friends that I hadn't seen since the last Superbowl, and might not see again 'til next year - assuming that the now-engaged host will have us all over in '10.

The event was much like you might picture it: lots of cheering, clapping, and cries of indignation at questionable calls (of which there were plenty). There was hot wings and spinach dip, and pasta and potato salad galore.

As is often the case, I was one of the few who brought beer, to find that some of my kindred figured that the alcohol was as communal as the cheese dip (especially my wife's "girly" drinks that seem to disappear far faster than normal brew).

The commercials this year had their ups and downs: I didn't find any to be as memorable as previous years - none apt to spawn Spencer's Gifts spin-offs like the "Bud. Wise. Er" frogs, but some that brought some genuine laughter.

Needless to say, the preview for upcoming movies Transformers 2 and especially G.I. Joe had us Children of the '80s practically wetting our pants.

Friend's kids were a year older, video game and movie reviews were a year further along, and despite an upset in the game's outcome, it was a fine chance to share something fun and quintessentially American with good friends that we don't see nearly as much as we'd like.

Saturday Night at the Laundromat

My brother called from LA where he was having tacos and cervazas at a local hipster Mexican joint and he asked what I was doing. When I told him I was going to the laundromat, he said: "Tell me that's a bar."

No, my lively Sat night hangout was the Grandin Road Laundromat, where scores of towels long overdue for a wash would enjoy a fast scrub in the triple loader.

The place was surprisingly crowded for a Sat night, with maybe 10 people inside either reading or watching the giant flat screen tv in front of the encircling chairs while snatching occasional glances at their clothes.

My wife and I sat at the table where chairs welding in place leave little room for seating arrangement manipulation.

On the tube was a local show about how to handle the digital conversion coming up. It must have been old because it was still adamant that the conversion will be in February, taking light jabs at "on the street" polls where people don't know what happens on Feb 17, like digital conversion should be as ubiquitously known as, say, who's president or who invented the telephone.

The show was obviously aimed at seniors based on the commercials by "Tom Cruise" making the scooter for the elderly look as much fun as the X-Box 360.

Even the magazines were aimed at an older demographic, with titles such as The Saturday Evening Post. The attendant - doing an excellent job of keeping the place clean - was an elderly gentleman, pretty much the only one in there, so I figure he'd decided to gear the laundromat experience based on personal preference.

Having a 7-Eleven snack dinner was a rare treat, and having time away from home's distractions to read was nice as well, though reading over the din of rather repetitious programming took some focus.

I don't anticipate the Grandin Road Laundromat to become a regular Saturday night hangout, but with as little as I've ever been there, and based on some of the shadier laundromats I've seen in my day, I'd have to say it was as pleasant an experience as doing laundry ever is.