The oysters looked like they had been cracked open a week prior and left in a mop closet, and they tasted and smelled of ship channel bilge water. The shrimp hadn't been anything close to clean before being cooked, and the etoufee from which I ate them looked and tasted like a frothy upchuck of rotted bell peppers, and the piece of bread served on top was as old as the oysters. The fries were alright, as were the buffalo wings. Of course, if you have no respect for yourself, what you eat, or what kind of scenery in which you try to relax, this is the place to go -- just don't forget the air sickness bags for once you peel out onto the highway.
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