Tuesday, December 7, 2010

"HI, WELCOME TO CICI'S!!!" (CiCi's Pizza -- Woods Corner Shopping Center, Va. Beach, VA)

I don't care who you are. Nobody is immune from an overly friendly greeting at the door's entrance. A Ronald Reagan-masked robber brandishing an automatic weapon in order to collect "dough" for a Nags Head surfing excursion would not be met with panicked resistance. Rather, the company man or woman would serve the perpetrator with a minimum-wage smile and offer fresh tens and twenties in a special to-go box before sending Bonzo off to catch tube rides at a point break of his choosing. "Thank you. Come back and see us..." In the past, I've walked inside just to hear an employee's reaction. Then I'd immediately exit upon hearing the per-usual enthusiasm. Try this test yourself. Use the restroom, ask to speak with Hobart, inquire about the steak wraps, or drop a quarter in a video game...do anything that doesn't require a food purchase. If you're not flashed with as many teeth as a face-to-face with Jimmy Carter, then that person has done time at Papa John's or Domino's and should be ratted out to the nearest manager. Complacency, like tomato sauce, is neither an ingredient for CiCi's many pies nor an adjunct found in the bylaws of the chain's personal attentiveness.

Read my lips: MY HUNGER WAS TAXING! After a Sunday afternoon of watching an En Ef El scrum between the Browns and Steelers and nibbling on crumbs from a Tostito's bag, my belly grew tired of bush-league field-goal misses and plowed its way into the end zone for six. Well, $5.70 upon further review. That, my friends, is called deceptive tacticism. The buffet price on the window, emblazoned in bold shades of red, clearly states $3.99 (up a Washington from the original "what-a-deal" charge). However, because most people like The Gee Man himself want a carbonated beverage to enjoy with their meal and can't hang with complimentary unfiltered H20 from the pisser, what had once been a bargain was now simply "cheaper than the 'Hut." Squaring my tab and acknowledging two WELCOMES, the bevy of pizzas laid before me looked scrumptious in comparison to a tortilla-chip brunch. Spinach, plain cheese, Hawaiian, pepperoni 'n' sausage, veggie, apple, cherry...I grabbed a slice of each on my initial trip. Respective comments are as follows: 1)Not too shabby but nothing like the flavor of Mom's spinach lasagna...MMM; 2)Too creamy to be rendered enjoyable; 3)Pineapples and ham would also make a fine sammich; 4)Meat is good, even when it lines a mediocre crust; 5)Don't ask; 6)Not Mrs. Smith's; 7)Not Hostess. I prolly made at least three more 1-3-4 Ickey Shuffles to the AYCE tables before passing out from (meat) exhaustion. Never had I eaten so many slices of pizza (easily well into double-digits). But when you're handed the ball, you run with it...even as an opponent amongst a partisan crowd.

Many snot-nosed brats were given free rein to run amok every which way. One unkempt tyke bumped into my leg on more than one occasion. Several other children pet-peeved me by letting their straws directly touch the liquid dispensers during drink refills. A rugrat (AND HIS MOTHER!) reloaded dirty plates with pies to the sky -- hepatitis, anyone? This trying-to-rebel-against-her-parents, Sissy Spacek-from-"Carrie"-lookin' girl incessantly (not to mention loudly) begged mommy and daddy for permission to see whatever that movie's called starring Eminem. "It has repeated uses of the F-word," dad pointed out. "No, he isn't cussing just to cuss. He's using those words to make a point," pseudo-intelligently replied the girl. "Well, the point is you're not seeing that movie," mom curtly countered, ending all debate and wrapping up the entertainment portion of the evening. "CiCi's Theater" was a good substitute for the lack of football on the big and little screens (all glued to Nickelodeon repeats). Dr. Pepper and Barq's were fine accompanying beverages, but, like the atmosphere, something more adult a la Bud or Icehouse on tap would've washed everything down more satisfyingly. Besides, the kiddies already have their own C.C.'s in the form of Chuck (E.) Cheese's. Let them be killed with kindness from a gregarious rodent; I would rather eat a piece in peace.

Until CiCi's makes concessions for over-21 diners, the desired Monastery of Mozzarella will continue on as a Daycare of Dough. I'll be Ci-Ciing you...

1 comment:

  1. Buffets aren't really my thing anymore, thanks to the last experience at Golden Corral. Have they always used that much salt?