When JD and I moved into our current Lincoln Square apartment a few years ago, one of the first places we went to eat out was this little fast-casual type restaurant called Pockets.
Pockets markets itself as sort of a trendier version of Subway, with its “fresh, healthy fast food.” It makes a lot of salads and sandwiches stuffed into “pockets” (they’re pitas, okay, but who wants to use the real word?). Also they make pizzas and stuff.
It’s so bad, you guys.
Maybe this was partially our own fault. We were very tired one day after many hours of unpacking and moving things around in our new home. I think we had done a grocery run that day, and on our walk home we were like, hey, that seems like a cool place to get a semi-healthy dinner, let’s try it.
So we walked in. The Pockets near our house has a lot of seating, but I think there was only one other guy in there. It was him, the two women behind the counter, and us.
JD ordered a calzone. I ordered a loaded baked potato, like some kind of old person.
Then we sat at the weird plastic table to eat our food. There was no music being piped in. It was just us, munching quietly, being watched by the other three people in there, I’m certain.
Then we left, and as we closed the door we looked at each other and agreed that going in there had been a terrible choice.
Have you ever eaten in at, say, a Chinese restaurant that mostly deals in takeout orders? Maybe there’s four dining tables total, and zero ambiance, just a guy running in and out with food wrapped up in plastic, and people shouting at each other in the back. You feel like you’re not supposed to be there, like you should have just taken your food to go like a normal person.
This was like that but also the food wasn’t good. It was all sort of lukewarm and unappetizing.
As I write this, I realize I’m not describing an exactly MISERABLE experience, but somehow it was. We vowed never to come back. Now every time we walk past Pockets, we talk about how bad it was and how we’ll never go there again. We even wrote a song about it, which is basically “Never go to Pockets again” said in a singsong voice, so I doubt it counts as “writing a song,” but I already wrote that and I don’t feel like deleting it.
IN SUMMARY, never go to Pockets, because it is bad. This is the strongest opinion I have about anything in the world.