Just the other day I'm sitting at a light and look to my left and realize that I'm right in front of the classic Billy Goat restaurant. For those of you who do not know the Billy Goat, it was the inspiration for the classic "cheezborger, cheezborger" skit of Saturday Night Live fame.
It was then that I realized that after six-plus years of working in and around Chicago, I have never been there. Being near lunchtime, and feeling a bit peckish, I veer across oncoming traffic into the parking lot to experience one of Chicago's gems first-hand.
I walk in to find a small line at the counter, a mostly empty cavernous dining room, and a few regulars parked at the bar. No sooner do I walk in then I hear the short-order cook yelling at the customers.
"Hey! Get moving! You are holding up the line! What's so hard about fixing your sandwich? My grandmother moves faster than you!"
Customers cowtow sheepishly and move through and add their condiments to their burgers under the scrutinizing glare of the counter help. Rude. Irreverent. Chicago.
I decide to jump into the fray. I order a cheeseburger, fries and a soda, pay, get my toppings and sit down for a uniquely Chicago experience.
One bite and I realize that I bought into the hype, and the hype is overblown.
It had to be the worst cheeseburger of my life.
It wasn't that it had a bad taste. You would actually have to have a burger patty of substance to glean a taste of the meat. As I looked at the cross-section of my bitten burger in disbelief, I realize that the burger patty is about 1/8" thick, pretty much the same thickness of the slice of cheese on top of it. Over that are 1/4" slices of pickle and a cumulative 2" of dry bun.
I realize there that the price of a dream dying is around $7.99, plus tax.
Like a rube, I sit there and try to rationalize my bad experience. Maybe I should have gotten the double cheeseburger? Then maybe I could have tasted something.
I push that thought out of my mind, and realize then that the outcome was simple: I would never recommend the Bully Goat, and never go there again. Maybe 30 years ago they had good burgers, with an ambiance that inspired some young comedy writer, but not any more.
The Billy Goat would remain what is was before I walked in that day: a fiction. An ephemeral image, based on some long-lost original, but never to be truly experienced.
And the real bitch of it was that I was still hungry afterwards!
1 comment:
I too, almost ate there - much under the same circumstance. Glad you took one for the team.
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