Columbia Restaurant


I understand why folks new to town are told "You simply must go to the Columbia" upon their arrival. The ornate tile, the starched waiters, the flamenco dancers, the kitsch, the tourist factor. Just wondering if anyone ever goes there twice once they've tasted the food? —WG

The Throwing and Grabbing of Plastic Beaded Necklaces

These chintzy trinkets fly around Gasparilla, Guavaween, Bucs games, Heatwave and just about anything that passes for a parade or celebration. What's next? Beaded-necklace drivebys? Pelting folks with 'em while they're out clipping the hedges? I'm not up on the history of beaded-necklace throwing, but I'm pretty sure New Orleans beat us to the punch. —ES

Bern's Steakhouse

Why must the most famous restaurant in Tampa Bay look like a cut-rate mausoleum? And that's just the outside. Inside, it's room after hideously ugly room, Charles Addams Gothic meets Victorian brothel, tacky red velvet and medieval sconces mixed painfully with dropped ceilings and cold grey brick, all 100 percent taste-free. With interiors this gloomy, the food has to be good. —DW

Mons Venus

Yes, the Mons has a few hotties working the pole. But a legendary tittie bar? World-renowned? C'mon. The place is a cramped, over-priced bunker with cheap lighting, no amenities and no real show. Give the Mons credit for flouting the 6-foot rule and keeping the lap dances going. Without those, what garden-variety perv would even bother? —ES

Downtown St. Pete

This one's a little tricky — because we all dig what's happening in the once-sleepy, green-benches 'burg. It's nice to see some Friday and Saturday night foot traffic along Central; hell, there might even be some on Thursday night. But aren't we overstating the case a bit? You'd think downtown were a ceaseless hive of partying, shopping and general madness from all the hyperbole about the district's rejuvenation. More than a few times, I've been down there on a perfectly pleasant Saturday around 11 p.m., and there wasn't a whole lot crackin'. It's OK, though — we'll keep showing up, cheering the place on, and maybe one day it'll become the genuine urban downtown that some folks think it already is. —ES

Bayshore Boulevard in Tampa

In the summer, it smells worse than a high school locker room. Six miles of uninterrupted sidewalk, claimed as the longest in the world — you'd think it would rock. But the view is dominated by a giant gypsum stack and a power plant. Bikers and inline-skaters weave at max speed around power walkers and joggers. There's no parking for those who don't happen to live in nearby wealthy neighborhoods, and crossing Bayshore has proven deadly on several occasions. Why doesn't the city close the northbound lanes and make it into the premier linear park it deserves to be? —WG

Clearwater Beach

Clearwater Beach claims a Best of the Bay Readers Poll award year after year and I can't fathom why: It's teeming with hotels and condos; the cigarette-littered sand is overrun with oiled-up masses of old, crispy brown men; and the rest of the beach is infested with beach bunnies, rowdy young bucks and noisy families, all caught up in rituals that would be less insufferable if there weren't so many of them all crowded together on one stretch of somewhat scenic sand. —LP

Tim Dorsey

Am I just jealous that a capable Bay area journalist was able to find success in a crime-fiction subgenre with writing that's solid enough, but doesn't approach the quality of its conspicuous influences — before I could? Probably. —SH

Overrated

This article appears in Nov 22-28, 2006.