Four of us showed up for beer, food, and the SMU vs. TCU game (I know, 2 people in State College care about this game. Unfortunately, one of them asked me to go watch the bloodbath with him). We arrive and stand for a few minutes, waiting to be seated. Of course, we, and the 8 to 10 people who were there before us, are ignored. Because, you know, the last thing a fucking restaurant would want to do is seat customers in order to get $$ from them.
Anyway, we already knew this drill, so we seated ourselves at the bar. That’s pretty much all we did, too, because for the next 15 to 20 minutes we were, again, ignored. Great job, Champs Sports Grill: you hired 3 bartenders who, collectively, cannot serve 10 customers. I suggest you put a Sheetz MTO-style system in so we can get our food from the goddamn kitchen ourselves. Or maybe go poach some employees from McDonald’s.
But why was it so empty on a Saturday night, you ask? Because Champs Sports Grill, in their infinite wisdom, decided to host a UFC only fight night. This involved clearing out the bar at 9:30 (and, apparently, stopping service at least an hour earlier) and turning every TV in the place to one channel. This seems like overkill to me, but hey, I don’t watch that stuff. Maybe the experience improves exponentially when you watch dudes get cut on 5 screens at the same time. But if it doesn’t, well, someone’s UFC only night is an idiotic endeavor.
At some point during our wait, I managed to make eye contact with one of the awesome threesome – I’ll point out here that, prior to this, each of them had walked by where we were sitting at least 5 or 6 times without acknowledging our existence. He gave me the “just a minute” nod and walked away. We then waited another 5+ minutes before we were able to flag down one of the other dicks. Then, when my girlfriend asked for one of the beers on their beer list (Blue Moon Pumpkin), he told her she couldn’t have it. Ha ha ha, they don’t actually have that one! Good fucking job, Champs Sports Grill: your menu is wrong, your bartender gives your customers shit, and he doesn’t apologize for not having a beer that’s on your cheap-ass beer list. They're printed on paper - try keeping it up to date next time, and keep the smug condescension and the bad jokes away from the customers, please.
And no, they weren’t just shunning us due to our (truly hideous) B.O. At one point, when one of the bartenders actually stopped to say something to us, we saw a woman at the other side pounding on the bar after, presumably, waiting forever to get served. Pointing this out did no good – the tender neither went to help her nor told one of her worthless colleagues to. Champs Sports Bar sucks.
Food: Who fucking cares, it never comes.
Facilities: Who fucking cares, you never drink so you never piss.
Atmosphere: Who fucking cares.
Attractiveness of Clientele and Staff: Can’t say. They don’t, you know, come by your table.
Champs Sports Grill, welcome to the top of the Shit List:
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