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In an effort to continue trying new places trend, this weekend Andy and I headed over to the college side of town to get our brunch on. For those of you who don’t know, Tallahassee has two very different parts: the areas around the university where bars and fast food abound and then the rest of the city that is less “GO NOLES!” and more farmers markets, funky restaurants, and places to shop. There is a ton of great food to be had on either side, but this week we decided to try out a place that has received great reviews, Prime Time.
When we pulled in to the parking lot, I had to laugh a bit. When I was in college, Prime Time was Buffalo Wild Wings, or B-Dubs as my roommate’s boyfriend affectionately referred to it. It was a nice little nostalgic moment. The inside was a little strange, a sort of swanky sports bar theme that was neither swanky nor sports bar-y enough for things to really work, but it was dim, cool, and the seats were comfy, which I realized was perfect for a large portion of the customers stumbling in – hungover college students. The food was solidly okay; the sweet potato fries and the home fries were amazing, but everything else was just good. Nothing wrong with it, but nothing to make the drive across town worth it either.
We did have a bit of an issue with our waiter (although the rest of the staff was wonderful); he was not really interested in waiting on our table. He screwed up our order and brought us three full meals instead of the two meals and an appetizer we ordered. He begrudgingly stopped by a couple times to give us refills, but most of the time he was hovering around the table of hung over girls next to us. Dude was getting his flirt on hard core, sliding into the booth to explain the complexities of the menu and keeping their bottomless mimosas topped off. Part of me found the whole thing pretty funny, and I kept a running commentary going since Andy’s back was to the table and he couldn’t see everything that was happening, but the other part of me was a little annoyed. Pouring alcohol into four young girls that were hungover, one of which kept excusing herself to the bathroom to throw up, was messed up. All that being said, I don’t think we’ll be heading back for brunch anytime soon. I think this means I am getting old.
Category: Sunday Brunch