It's like a huge expensive kiddie pool in the middle of a shiny vast high-end shopping mall. I suppose it's a prime spot for people watching, or as I like to call it to justify all-day drinking, conducting an urban ethnographic study. Unfortunately, the subjects are primarily French-manicured zombie consumers of ridiculously pricey and hideous designer crap dookie, which is to say, bor-rring. The Ken Wright Pinot Noir was unassuming at best--or maybe the lifeless atmosphere seeped into the wine. My mister, a manly man, indeed, eschewed public wine drinking and instead ordered a gin and tonic. If your poison is lots of ice and loads of tonic water, then get yourself a $12 cocktail in this joint! Our bartender was courteous but appeared to be MIA for a Southern minute, and the three other staff people seemed distant and dulled, often staring out into the vast terrain of the mall and emitting feintly audible sighs. Maybe they were thinking, \"Is this all there is?\" I know I was.
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