Travelogue: Monroeville, PA (Part the Second)

The team went out to dinner at DeNunzio‘s last night, despite the fact that someone in the office claimed Johnny Carino‘s is superior. The fact that Johnny C didn’t send some of his boys down to make sure the DeNunzios slept with the fishes last night (at least, not while we were there) leads me to believe that he’s no capo.

I enjoyed a cup of the wedding soup, some fried calamari and the chicken saltimbocca, all of which were pretty tasty. During the meal, I was filled in on some of the antics that occurred after I retired on Tuesday night. Listening to the tales of drunken revelry, I determined that there is one advantage to returning to the hotel at 10PM instead of staying out at the Tiki Lounge until 3AM: plausible deniability. Everything I “know” about what went on after I left is hearsay, and will never hold up in court. What happens in Pittsburgh stays in Pittsburgh until the special task force is assembled.

After dinner, we said farewell to three of our elite shadow force and they vanished like the colony of Roanoke. Then the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and the X-Men teamed up in an unprecedented across-the-aisle effort to defeat the forces of Apocalypse. That went on for about two hours before the involved mutants got sleepy and went to bed.

The other apprentice and I will be fleeing the state this evening, but I did add two of Monroeville’s more exotic locations to my “Been There, Done That” list. The first is a local eatery called Quizno’s, which features a menu chock-full of delectable sandwiches. After your chosen ingredients are piled high atop whole wheat (or white, if you must) bread, the entire assembly is placed on a conveyor belt where it descends into the very bowels of the Earth and is cooked to perfection by molten lava. They have raspberry lemonade, too, which is made by either faeries or elves, whichever is less likely rile the lawyers at Keebler.

Finally, there is The Exchange, an establishment spoken about only in hushed whispers behind tightly closed doors. So secret is this place that even The Internet has never heard of it. There are wonders to behold behind the doors of The Exchange (provided you can actually find the damn place) the likes of which my tripping fingers cannot begin to describe. I will say only this: at The Exchange, you can purchase a Shadowrun SEGA Genesis cartridge for a mere two dollars and fifty cents. Well, actually you couldn’t, because I did.

I have uncovered all the secrets this town holds, I fear, and soon it will be time to journey westward once more. The final stop in this town of hidden treasures and ancient mysteries will be a gas station, where the MVoD will drink deeply of the enchanted elixir that is the lifeblood of Monroeville, PA.

5 thoughts on “Travelogue: Monroeville, PA (Part the Second)”

  1. The team went out to dinner at DeNunzio’s last night, despite the fact that someone in the office claimed Johnny Carino’s is superior.

    Can’t vouch for DeNunzio’s, but Johnny Carino’s is excellent; we have one close by, and frequent it often.

  2. I will say that DeNunzio’s is the first Italian restaurant I’ve been to where the waitress advised us not to order the lasagna.

  3. The first is a local eatery called Quizno’s, which features a menu chock-full of delectable sandwiches.

    I do agree on the sandwiches. However, if by local you are referring to the one on Euclid in your hometown, then indeed local they are.

    Furthermore, following the link you so graciously provided (thanks), the history of this eatery contains the following tidbit:

    The first Quiznos Sub restaurant opened at 13th and Grant in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood in 1981.

    I couldn’t help myself. My Favourite Canadian and I had taken The Broodlings to a Quizno’s in T-Town several years ago, they’ve also gained a foothold in the Motor City area.

    Once again, good food. Seemed a bit spendy for sandwiches at the time.

    OT: You feelin any better? It took me ‘forever’ to shake that crap this year.

  4. I confess that I took some artistic license with words like “local” and “exotic,” but I was trying to jazz up a town in which I hadn’t really enjoyed my stay. I figured that Monroeville wasn’t to blame for my ailment, so I shouldn’t paint the town with ugly strokes.

    As for my current state of health, I shall sum it up with two words: phlegm factory.

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