When digging through the Travel’Erchives for Wilstafa’s review of La Tour d’Argent I came across the review my identical cousin Wand’rin Will “wrote” for The Original Trailer Park Lounge and Grill back in ’05. After you’ve read the review please consider sponsoring Team Traveler Bill in the American Heart Associations 2009 Wall Street Walk and Run. A convenient link is on the left hand side of this site.
Sunday October 30, 2005 – The Original Trailer Park Lounge & Grill – 271 W. 23rd St at 8th Ave
By Wandrin’ Will, as told to William Blevins.
Well Howdy there folks. It’s me! Wandrin’ Will. I done come to the Big Apple to see my favorite, and only, identical cousin Traveler Bill. And I figured, whilst I was here, that I could jus’ write me one of them reviews Traveler Bill’s always crowin’ about. I figure, “it caint be too hard.” I mean, he ain’t got no training in such refineries and he say he do it all the time. The only vexation I had was where to go. But as I was amblin’ toward the Traveler Bill Towers, I done seen it…the O-riginal Trailer Park Lounge AND Grill. It was like a little dollop of middle-American right here in the big city. Now I’ll fess up pardners, I teared up a might. I’s only been away a short time, but I got me a powerful homesick.
But enough of my brayin’. I was gonna take Traveler Bill out to help me with my very own reviewin’ of this here establishment, but he kept prattlin’ on ‘bout “Fantasy Football” or some such garbage. I should add though, to his credit, he did put me in touch with some of his pals to dine with, and I shore appreciate him doin’ that. So out into a brisk Fall night we went, me with my dining compadres, Estelle and Paco.
As I’s only rarely in the city, I brung my Kodak Brownie along to document this evening like I did at the Grand Canyon. And I shore was I glad I did. The ediface of the Trailer Park is a purdy sight. Reminds me of the City Diner in Kingman, Arizona. I had me a fine stack of flapjacks there one day.
But that ain’t what I’m here to talk about, is it? Me and my dining companions was sat right away by a right polite bar maid; and faster’n a jack rabbit, our waitress Billie Ray came by and explained the fine menu of good American fare.
We had a powerful thirst and I got me a can of a local New York beer, Rheingold, to wash the trail dust out of my parched throat. Estelle and Paco decided to share themself a drink they call, and I wrote this down, a “Lovers Concerto-Potent, Jumbo-Frozen Fruit Margarita with a Special Surprise.” We also got us a Super Nachos with the beef chili.
Now when they says “Jumbo” they mean “JUMBO.” The menu say it’s a drink for 2. But they must mean Texans cause if didn’t come to our table a margarita in a glass as big as Pancho Villa’s sombrero! It were all purdy with umbrelly’s and fancy straws. The only downside was that they ain’t had them none of that Rheingold, a popular brew I reckon. Well, if they ain’t had just a fine replacement called Shaffers. Cold and refreshin’, it would slake the strongest thirst.
The nachos was just fine. Tiny little fried corn tortillas was covered with nacho cheese, beef chilli, salsa and tiny little tubs of jalapenos and a queso fresco they called “sour cream.” Why if it wasn’t like a little mesa with all them layers. I ain’t afeared to fess, it brung back the homesick. Lucky for me and my compadres it were so tasty that we ate like the mighty Colorado River and that mesa was soon a memory.
I’s shore I cain’t do it justice as my words just ain’t purdy enough but I‘ll try and describe the inside of the Trailer Park. ‘Cause while you are there, take the time to absorb all the effort these here people put into this restaurant and bar. The walls have all these fine photographs of great American icons like Tonya Harding, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, Billy Carter and yes, the King hisself, Elvis Aaron Presley. They even had the King on the tevee in “Viva Las Vegas.” And don’t go and try to beat my score on the “Love Tester.” Ye cain’t! I right near made the lights above it go off.
But while you might go there to just gawk at pictures, drink washtub portions of tequila, or eat enough nachos to feed half an Andy Devine impersonator, we was there to eat down-home grub. Estelle, she had herself the grilled cheese sandwich with bacon. And while she had herself a choice between American, Swiss and Cheeder, Estelle demonstrated her patriotism.
Paco ordered hisself somethin’ called a Turkey Burger (also with American Cheese Product) and I got me a Philly Steak Sandwich. As I’s a fan of the Cradle of Democracy, I asked Billie Ray if’n were okay fer me to git my sandwich with that tasty nacho cheese. The Trailer Park is just chock filled with the most neighborly people, ‘cause she not only said okay, she told us we had a choice of potato! Me and Estelle got the Tater Tots, but Paco got the sweet potato fries. Let me tell ye, ye cain’t go wrong whichever fork to take on that trail. Both was good in they own way. The tots was crispy fried to the most perfect consistency and them sweet potato fries, (I stoled one from Paco when he weren’t looking’) was as good as I’s had in all my days.
Paco’s burger was, accordin’ to him, “The best Turkey Burger I’ve ever had.” Estelle added that Paco’s always ordering this and he oughta know. Estelle’s sandwich was the most unique thing I ever done seen. It were actually grilled! Two thick slabs of Texas Toast with cheese and a rasher of bacon inside, cooked on a grill, with them marks and everything. The pickles was like none I ever had. They smelt like bread and butter, but tasted like a dill, perplexin‘ indeed. The Philly Steak Sandwich came on what I understand to be called a he-row roll. And it tasted mighty fine, the extra cost of the cheese was well worth the investment.
Unfortunately they ain’t got a dessert menu at The Trailer Park. But don’t you fret, theys a Krispy Kreme, an ice cream parlor all within stumblin’ distance. And for the “dudes” what insist on goin’, ya’ll go visit the “ben-yay” shop next door. (Ed note: Both the ice cream parlor and donut shop have closed, the beigner shop remains.) But before you go check out the fine selection of t-shirts and other sundry items.
Now Traveler Bill uses this scale of “Traggis” to rate the restaurants he has et at. And that’s just fine and dandy with me. But I ain’t Traveler Bill, so I don’t feel right rustlin’ his ratin’s. I will then use one of my own device, the Giant Silver Belt Buckle. And I proudly award, The Original Trailer Park Lounge & Grill FOUR Giant Silver Belt Buckles. Shucks, it ain’t Daniel, but then again, that ain’t their aim.