Not so Tastee

Roomie Woo-Ha and I treked to Virginia on Saturday night for a small house party. It was cold, but there was a fire pit in the backyard to keep us toasty, as well as the marshmallows we turned into s’mores.

We drank a little too much and stayed a little too late and ate not nearly enough. Our favorite spot, the Drunk McDonald’s, had long since closed. Luckily for our stomachs, Tastee Diner was just a few blocks from home and open all night.

Tastee Diner, for those not in the Montgomery County know, is one of those old-fashioned diner cars that is considered a local relic. I wish I could say it’s one of Silver Spring’s finest spots, a favorite of mine. But honestly, it really kinda sucks.

The food is mediocre — standard diner fare but just not that great, even for drunkesses. What really ruined the experience though was the service. I know it’s 2:30 a.m. I know we’re clearly two tipsy girls. But there’s no reason to go sit down three booths behind us and start gabbing to a friend in another booth while we’re searching around, looking for you.

Yes, our waitress blew the big one. After I stood up in my booth and made eye contact, she stopped the convo and came back to our table. We were clearly her only customers! That was strike one.

Strike two, she just stood there as we gave our order. I am always a little uneasy when a server doesn’t write down the order, but at a more classy place, where the servers are held to a little higher standard, I try to have a bith more faith that my food won’t come out wrong. But Chatty Cathy didn’t make such an impression.

She heard our order, went 10 feet to the computer, returned 30 seconds later, asking again what kind of fries I wanted (gravy). And as predicted, when the food came to our table several minutes later, the order was wrong. My grilled cheese came with a side of plain fries. She gave the gravy fries to Woo-Ha (she wanted cheese on hers).

Then, Chatty took my whole platter of fries and sandwich to return it back to the kitchen.

Brewmistress: Wait, what are you doing?
Chatty: Returning the fries.
Brewmistress: Can you leave behind my sandwich?
Chatty: Oh. oh, OK. (uses my fork to slide sandwich off of the plate and onto a smaller one in front of me).

Chatty returns with a plate of fries covered in microwave-melted cheese. Woo wanted American though. The cheese was cheddar.

We left behind a generous $2.30, barely 15 percent of a tip. You know it’s a sad situation when us two drunk girls really wanted the world’s most disgusting McDonald’s to be open. It’ll be a long time before I return to Tastee Diner.