Hell in Bondi
Jamie McLellan | June 16th, 2007
I have eaten in some pretty rough places in India and China, but my most scary dining experience took place in Bondi.
Desperately hungry after a long day of walking the Sydney beaches, my partner and I made the mistake of stopping in the first place we saw.
As we ate and our hunger-induced haze started to clear, it became apparent how disgusting this restaurant was. Upholstered seating that hadn’t been cleaned in years, coated with crumbs, spilt pasta sauce, sand and god knows what else.
People behind us dined with their shoes off in creepy, crumb-laden, raised bed-like lounges, their exposed feet dangling over the edges at head height to those dining at tables.
Waitresses were dressed more like personal trainers, zipping around in Lycra and sports shoes. Service was non-existent. Upon deciding to get the hell outta this place, we asked for the bill. This was when we noticed the waitresses were in the habit of stuffing the bills down the backs of their hot pants. So wrong - just look at the photographic proof.
Not wanting to touch the folder that was moments earlier nestled against this woman’s backside, we made our waitress open it and read the bill aloud. Laughing at how obscene this place was we handed over the cash, ignored the change and hightailed it in disbelief.
I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the establishment - I think I am still traumatized - so my advice would just be to not dine anywhere on the beachfront at Bondi. Head straight for Icebergs instead and order the Stingray. Much, much safer.
