For several months now, I’ve noticed these candy jars at the checkout of a Mexican restaurant near my office.

Not that I’m in the market for cheap candy from a filthy plastic tub, but if I were, I think I’d enjoy the debate that would ensue when I tried to get eight pieces for a penny.

This is a pretty common typo, I know, and one that is so prevalent that most either don’t realize it’s an error, or don’t care to argue the point (unless you’re the Verizon Math guy), but I still enjoy thinking about it.

It’s fun to imagine a scenario where I take the whole jug and drop a quarter on the counter, get chased out to my car by the cashier-ita shouting, “El ladrón! El ladrón!”  And then, flash forward in my extreme scenario to where we’re standing there outside the restaurant with a sheriff’s deputy, and I’m explaining why .25¢ is not the same as 25¢, and how my quarter was enough to pay for 200 pieces of candy at a rate of .25¢, and then I’m vindicated by math and released by the authorities, candy tub under my arm and a smugly nerdy look on my mug.

I hope it never happens, but wouldn’t it be cool?

Ever since moving to Jacksonville back in May 2007, I’ve been seeking far and wide to find a buffalo wing restaurant to call my own.

Because I’m a boring old man in my late 30′s, I’ve established a pseudo-tradition of going buck wild every Sunday, sitting in a wing restaurant, sucking on chicken bones and leisurely leafing through the ample Sunday paper to check on the latest prices for hearing aids & Depends. And I wanted to continue this rebel lifestyle in my new hometown.

Everybody serves wings, and some even claim to be “legendary” or “world-famous” wings, but I’ve yet to find a single restaurant that truly excels at the art of the chicken wing, and certainly none that come close to my favorite wing-haunt back in Tallahassee (Hobbit Hoagies on Shannon Lakes Drive).

And while I’ve tried around with hit-or-miss results, and I’ll keep searching, there is one wing restaurant I’ve found that stands head and shoulders above the rest as by far being the most worthless shit-hole in Duval County: Dick’s Wings.

I first went to Dick’s a few days after I first moved to Jax, based entirely on the name. I’d love to tell people, “I’ll see you at Dick’s,” “I had lunch at Dick’s,” or even the wildly hilarious “I’m gonna go gobble up some Dick’s,” but even on my first encounter I could tell it wasn’t going to go well. Everything was gong fair until my wings arrived and I found the ranch dressing, which every good American knows is used to dip one’s hot wings into, was served in a little pre-sealed coffee creamer-esque plastic cup which was too narrow to fit a chicken wing into. And things have just been downhill from there.

Not one to easily dismiss a restaurant with such great humorous name potential (waitresses wear t-shirts reading, “I don’t like Hooters, I prefer Dick’s”), I returned a couple more times to sort of give them an opportunity to impress me, but each time I was met with ordinary food and slightly above average prices and so-so service.

So having recently driven by and seeing the “under new management” sign outside the joint, today I gathered up the Sunday paper and my family and boldly stated, “Let’s go give Dick’s one last try.” (See, even that sounded funny.)

We arrived around 12:30 and it wasn’t really very busy, and a member of the wait staff encouraged us to “Sit anywhere you like,” which we did, and thus began the downhill plunge into dissatisfaction. Rather than drag this out into a long-winded bit of witty prose about my problems, I’m instead going to treat you to long-winded list of witty bullet points describing my experience.

• Alerted waitress that this was Dick’s “last chance” to win my business, which was met with apathy and “Do you know what you want to drink?”
• Lost 50 cents in Ms. Pac-Man machine
• Waitress who watched me lose 50 cents in Ms. Pac-Man machine, and whom I asked for a refund, never responded to my problem (and was docked 50 cents from her tip)
• “20 Piece Wings for Two” meal, which includes two drinks and two side items, cannot be split into two different flavors, no matter what, not even for an additional charge
• But you can get the “20 Piece Wings for Two” meal naked (no sauce on them) and be given two different sides of buffalo sauce
• Price for “20 Piece Wings for Two” meal: $17.99
• Price for two “10 Piece Wings” meals: $19.98
• Difference between the two choices: Two different sauces in 10-wing increments
• Side order of steak fries was comprised of 12 french fries in a basket
• Ketchup bottle was empty
• Ketchup bottle I stole from next table was also empty
• Cole slaw was in small plastic cup, was runny and bland
• One of the 20 chicken wings appeared to be nothing more than a mangled bit of deep-fried chicken skin clinging to bone

As you can see, there’s no huge glaring thing that was technically “wrong” that might warrant the swearing off of Dick’s, but cumulatively these things add up to a miserable dining experience, and one that was the straw breaking the proverbial camel’s back.

And while I’m certain hordes of “Go Jags!” mouth-breathing ass-hats will continue to brainlessly moo through the doors of Dick’s and bask in the glory of indifferent, bland mediocrity, they will never see another penny of my hard-earned (nor ill-gotten) money ever, ever again.

I’ve never heard of him before, but apparently this “Dave” guy is pretty famous when it comes to BBQ restaurants.

Today marked the first day of Open-For-Business status of our Tallahassee Dave’s. All of last week they had a banner hanging out front saying they were in training, but today was the first day open to the public (aka, me).

The decor is your basic fern bar with miscellaneous junk (traffic signs, buckets, engine belts/hoses, surfboards, etc.) covering every inch of wall space, plenty of neon and the occasional sheet metal & oak for accents.

I’m a fan of good BBQ, and I’m happy to say that, in the food department, Dave’s doesn’t disappoint. They have five different sauces on the table: Satan’s Spit, Texas Hit, Spicy Something-or-other, a mustard-based sauce and what appeared to be the Famous Dave signature sauce as it was in a double-sized squeeze bottle.

Sadly, I only know what these sauces taste like on the tip of my index finger, because my BBQ entree came slathered in sauce already. I’d recommend specifying that your dish come not pre-drowned so you can sample the various sauces on the table (cleverly displayed in a cardboard six-pack carrying case).

My friend and I each had the lunch special, which comes with your choice of meat, a cornbread cupcake, a 1/3 corn-on-the-cob and your choice of potato (we both tried fries, which were of the non-standard crinkle-cut wedge variety: very crispy and very tasty). I went with pulled pork and he had the rib tips. After trying both, the rib tips are by far the way to go: lots more meat and much more tender & juicy.

After all of this praise for the food, though, I’ve can’t be so upbeat about the service. Our waitress was a little late getting to the table (understandable for the first day the joint was open), and took our drink order. Gone for five minutes or so she returned and gave us each the other’s drink and asked to take our order. My order went something like this:

Me: “I’d like the lunch special with pulled pork and Famous Fries as the potato.”

Alexandra: “So you’d like a side of fries?”

Me: “No, don’t fries come with the special? It says here that it does.”

Alexandra: “Oh, yes. Okay so that’s the two-meat lunch special?”

Me: “No, isn’t pulled pork just one meat?”

Alexandra: “Oh, OK. I see.”

Alexandra seemed a little flustered (she later explained she was “having a terrible day” — which your guest never needs to hear you whining about) for the duration of our stay. I had to flag down a fellow server to get a drink refill, she never remembered to bring ice my dining companion requested (she got better about drinks later in the meal), and my check & credit card lay on the table for about 15 minutes before I asked whether I was to take it to a register myself or not.

And while she gets a little bit of understanding for it being the first day, other servers seemed to have a cooler head, and some even appeared to have their act together so much that they were standing around idle while Alexandra was scurrying about and looking disheveled. If I were the manager, I’d have been out on the floor for day one ensuring that every patron’s first impression was a positive one. Didn’t see one that I was aware of.

Luckily, the value (about $10/head for lunch), portion size & food quality was enough to bring me back again to roll the dice on a different server.

When you go (and I recommend you do), just remember to tell them to hold the sauce in the kitchen, and find out where Alexandra’s section is and ask to be seated elsewhere.