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Friday, July 9th, 2004To quote an article in our paper
“No night of solid beer drinking is complete without breakfast at the Royce. The Royce is on Second Street across from the Executive Inn. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but nice. You can get a full breakfast for less than $4.
Inside, the walls are plain except for several local fraternity paddles from the early ’80s hanging above the cash register. There’s a jukebox in the corner that contains more than five pages of country artists, a pop laser hits album, a Beatles CD and The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
You expect that maybe, at any moment, Clint Eastwood could walk through the door. Not the Clint Eastwood from the spaghetti westerns — the “Any Which Way But Loose” Eastwood. He’d bring his pet orangutan Clyde with him.
The Royce has that kind of late ’70s vibe to it. The colors are slightly tinged in the same fashion that Technicolor brought to black and white TV. The waitresses chew gum. It’s all really fantastic.
But what pushes the Royce over the top is the home-cooked, two-bacon breakfast complete with buttered toast. I mean toast soaked in butter that comes with an extra side of butter.
By now you’re full of beer and food and headed back to your place for a good night’s sleep. Unless you’re out looking for an after-party. In that case, good luck.”
wowie I feel proud..
*sarcasm*