Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part X: A milestone, maybe ...

June 7, 1985

Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part X: 

A milestone, maybe ...

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XXXII: “Do you sit down with the Farmer’s Almanac and deliberately pick out the worst nights for weather?” the Native American Guide accused the Captain as last Friday night’s tornado warnings hung ominously overhead.

        The Captain adamantly denied conspiracy with the elements, but the Guide certainly had a point. So far the Third Lost Expedition had endured suffocating heat, bone-numbing cold, blinding fog, sleet, snow and a veritable monsoon of rain in its quest to have a drink in every licensed establishment on what WIVB-TV’s Doug Smith once called “the macadam spine of Middle America” – fabled federal Route 62.

        And now here they were, perched on the verge of reaching a milestone in their trek from Niagara Falls to El Paso, Texas. Or as close to El Paso as they could get. And there were the skies, standing ready to sweep them up without warning and deposit them in some bizarre time warp far, far from home. Would they ever get to see the last of Niagara Falls Boulevard?

        The answer was unclear as a small but intrepid band of expeditioners blew into the designated staging area, the former Santora’s La Stanza at 1030 Niagara Falls Blvd., now renamed Santora’s Pasta Café. The Captain had reserved a table for 18, but that seemed wildly optimistic.

        Another shortfall in planning was discovered as the crew explored the place. Had they shown up between 10 p.m. and midnight, they could have taken advantage of the Wednesday and Friday late-night happy hour, which features a free buffet and a mandatory minimum of three $1 drinks.

        Instead, they clung to the small, dark bar next to the pizza take-out counter, steadying their nerves with $1.25 Labatts drafts and $1.50 mixed drinks and marveling at the speed of the Ms. Pac-Man machine. When their numbers were great enough not to provoke embarrassment, they ventured past “The World’s Largest Antipasto Bar” to a bright green-and-white dining room in the rear, where the coordinating theme appeared to be plastic. The plants were plastic. The tablecloths were plastic. The rug was that outdoor carpeting that’s supposed to resemble grass.

        “Take what you want,” the menu advised. “Eat all you like. No doggie bags. No sharing. Don’t waste food.” That proved to be impossible. Santora’s is nothing if not generous with its servings. The Chief Science Officer struggled with what must have been the world’s most colossal calzone. Happily, a few hungry reinforcements arrived just in time to polish off the leftovers.

        The abundance of Santora’s left the safari unable to give much more than cursory coverage to the menus in the other stops on the route, which were mostly restaurants. Backtracking to the Sizzler Family Steak House, 1304 Falls Blvd., they noted the shrimp and salmon specials at $6.99 and simply ordered drinks from the cafeteria-style counter.

        Advance intelligence had suggested that the Sizzler chain was upgrading its branches and the proof could be seen here. It was a pleasant world of etched glass, Tiffany-style lampshades and wood-grain finishes. The beers included Carlsberg at $1.75 plus tax. There was a wine list as well. The house wine? Inglenook. As for the staff, the operative mode as perky, from the matronly manager down to the teenage busgirl.

        Despite their earlier indulgence, the expeditioners felt obliged to take samples of the cuisine at the next stop, the Mei Yuan at 1060 Falls Blvd., the first Chinese restaurant they’d encountered on Route 62. A large, square room, made larger by its white walls, its décor was tastefully minimal as Oriental eateries go. A few murals, a few screens, chairs with carved backs. A bit light-headed at this point, the troupe squeezed 14 of those chairs around a single circular table with the assent of a most tolerant waiter, then ordered a round of $1 egg rolls and $2 bottles of Chinese-brewed Tsingtao beer.

        Another taste test was in order when they retreated one door to the north to the Niagara Falls Boulevard version of Bailo’s, a name synonymous with Buffalo Beef on Weck on Bailey Avenue for years. In its original incarnation, Bailo’s heaped the meat high between halves of the traditional salted Kaiser roll. Now they offer roast beef in two versions, regular at $2.50 and traditional at $4.25.

        The crew asked for traditional and proceeded to split it into quarters. The mountain of beef was not nearly as majestic as the ones in memory, but the accompanying horseradish was a legend in its own right. “It’s Canadian,” the waitress explained as the guinea pigs gasped for breath after tasting it.

        Only beer could quench an attack like that. Bailo’s had Labatts and three flavors of Genny on tap, plus a bit of wine. The safari loitered loudly around the bar area, remarking on the rustic wall plaques and the brick-and-wood ambiance, while the night manager shot disapproving grandmotherly glances in their direction.

        Tolerance surely would be higher across the street at the Cavalier Restaurant at 1139 Falls Blvd., the Captain reckoned, but he was mistaken. There was scarcely clearance for them in the entertainment area, where a group called Marilyn Mann and the Fantastics was translating popular hits like Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” and Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock ‘N’ Roll” into the vernacular.

        The Cavalier was a rich and exuberant riot of glitz, from its floral wallpaper and its frescos to the huge chandelier that dominated the lounge. Life forms of all descriptions filled the tables to capacity, as well as the bar, at the end of which a fortyish couple sat, necking.

        Grumbling broke out as a blonde hostess named Pia consigned the trekkers to a long table in the empty dining room beyond the lounge, but in truth there was nowhere else to go. They kept grumbling as they examined the list of international coffees on the late-night dessert menu. The California Co-Pilot and the Computer Banker demurred and simply sat alone by the exit, where they witnessed the arrival of escapees from a nearby high school prom.

        As the group emerged, they were infused with fresh enthusiasm which came from realizing that after one more stop, they’d have completed the entire Niagara Falls Boulevard section of their mission. They strode forthrightly to Barnaby’s at 1009 Falls Blvd., formerly known as Ruby Red’s, and were immediately swallowed up in an atmosphere that was as engulfingly complete as the one they had just left at the Cavalier.

        This milieu, however, was at the other end of the social scale. Barnaby’s is an unpretentiously primal young singles hangout, tilt ed toward those with athletic inclinations, both male and female. A pair of TV sets played cable sports. Trophies jammed the back wall.

        The denizens of the place, however, were more intent on socializing and dancing to the sound-booth deejay. Securing a couple pitchers of beer, the expeditioners fell at once upon the pinball machines and the video games, for which their hunger had been growing all evening. Finally, they had reached a turning point. And here, at last, was a real bar.