C OREGON - Oregon Commentator

RX Delicious
Drunk Restaurant
Reviews
White Castle
It probably doesn’t shock anyone
when I say that any foray into
Springfield is probably going
to end in tears and regret. That
probability increases exponentially
as the weekend approaches, so by
the time you hit Saturday night,
your at shit ground zero. However,
I’m pleasantly shocked to say that
I actually had a decent evening in
Springfield this weekend, during a
visit to the White Castle on Gateway.
True to form, after a couple
bottles of whiskey and a bowl or five,
my bros and I decided it was time to
stuff our gullets with greasy goodness.
After waking up the DD Travis and
pulling him out of a puddle of Jäger, we
made our confused way to the closest
fast food joint we could find. After we
missed a Taco Bell and an IHOP and
a KFC, we finally forced the T-Man
to pull over next to the Best Buy in
the parking lot of a White Castle.
The place got a thumbs
down right through when the door
the cashier asked for our IDs (way
too hardass, we weren’t that drunk).
Their menu was kind of weird, too,
with everything spaced out around a
dining room (which I would modestly
describe as football-field-sized) for
us to find on our own. It was almost
like a bistro, if bistros were full of
lingerie and dildos and gay porn.
Yeah, there was that too.
For reasons unknown, White Castle
has apparently decided to expand its
offerings. That seemed kind of weird
to me, since there wasn’t a square
hamburger to be found and it was hard
to construct a sandwich out of frilly
panties (Nathan had more luck with
the sexy board games and the edible
lube). While Kassandra sifted through
a rack of condoms for salt packets
and her boyfriend Fish yelled about
about not knowing the Castle had a
Redbox while pulling anal DVDs off
the shelf, my hankering for faux-meat
led me to the back wall, where I found
a different sort of faux-meat. Turns out
It was kind of like this, except with less
Neil Patrick Harris and more fleshlights.
they have an impressive selection of
vibrators at White Castle these days,
set up so they could be tested, which
I guess is cool since it’s kind of like
giving out free samples. Might as
well, when you’re the size of a Costco.
Everything was a bit blurry
after that—I remember Trav trying
to drink from what he thought was
a Coke before getting a mouthful o’
nine tails, Kass laughing about the
handcuffs that she found in a sandwich
box, and Jason passing out in a copy
of Big Dicks Monthly and muttering
about crayons for his placemat. I’m
pretty sure security tossed us out after
Kass’ beau knocked over a rack of
massage oil (dude, he was so drunk)
and we somehow stumbled our way
back to the car with some piecemeal
bits for our trouble (Jason somehow
managed to hold on to that BDM,
and said it was totally on accident).
It was only as I was passing out on
Kass’ couch that I found the prize that
came with my Whitey Meal—a purple
bullet with little cartoon flowers on
the box, somehow stuffed into my
pocket. This shit got classier everyday.
I have since discovered that,
apparently, the closest White Castle
to Eugene is in Minnesota, so it looks
like we found a knock-off. Either
way, my guess is we’ll be hitting
the place up the next time my posse
is dying for somethin’ fryin’. Or
vibin’. Mayan? Something, whatever.
In conclusion, if you love
plastic protein, hit up the White
Castle on Gateway. At the very least,
it’ll be worth it for the prize inside.
Kat O. Nein is the managing editor of
the Oregon Commentator, and takes,
“Thank you, come again,” the wrong way.
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