Chu's

My girlfriend and I were eating at Madras Chetinaad, the best Indian restaurant in Savannah. The general consensus in our relationship is that Indian food is the best in the world. As such, we overeat at this restaurant. Never fail, one of us always leaves with a stomach ache. If I had an endless supply of naan and masala sauce, I doubt I would ever stop dunking and eating it. It would be like a voluntary case of the first victim in Se7en. Yeah, gluttony guy.

A few nights ago I saw an opportunity through the window next to our booth at Madras -- Chu's Market on Eisenhower Drive. Erin and I made a pact to eat until one of us was sick (it was bound to happen anyway) so we'd have an excuse to go to Chu's. Gotta work hard for your blog, right? Long, delicious story short -- we waddled across the parking lot divider to Chu's.

Chu's was on lockdown. My girlfriend and I both went straight for the restrooms in the back. Both were locked. This is terrifying. As if walking across the parking lot wasn't hard enough, now we have to find the keys to the bathroom? We headed for the front counter, only then noticing the bulletproof shield. The entire counter was a massive, clear and impenetrable box. We asked for the keys from the cashier and heard her muffled response through the glass, "They're on the counter." All this security for nothing? Whatever, we hit the bathrooms.

These bathrooms weren't very clean. Wet floors, smelled bad, soggy toilet paper strewn about. Whatever, we were just glad it was over.

The store offered some interesting products. The cooler had your standard sodas and beers, but way down on the bottom shelf were some "juices." The first were individual Mondo bottles -- those small plastic Kool-Aid knockoffs with the twist-off top. I hadn't seen this crap since third grade. Next to the Mondo were those little plastic cubes of colored "drink," like they serve in the cafeteria on the show Oz. Only 39 cents to drink like you're in a state penitentiary.

The "coffee corner," right next to the "candy corner" (both signified by buzzing neon signs) was easily the most unique spot in the store. The back wall behind the three coffee makers presented a giant hand-painted mural of a Mexican town, complete with una escuela, una biblioteca y un supermercado. This thing was like a fourth grade class project. Muy bien. The tie-in? There was a tiny metal cart filled with some Mexican bakery goods -- basically a bunch of greasy pound cakes wrapped in plastic. Exotic.

I awkwardly bought a pack of Fruit Stripe from the lady behind the two-inch thick glass wall. Heads up, Fruit Stripe gum still loses its flavor after an honest ten seconds. Next time I'm at Madras I'll stick with their bathroom.