Subject: No wires, no-hooks and no-digging straps

From: "Genie Zip Bra" <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2014 10:09:14 -0700

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Despite the fact that I think "gourmet" pizza is an extreme oxymoron and that Bianco is one of the most over-hyped brands in America, I did try to go there one night and give it a try. It was during a beer fest (what goes better than pizza and beer?). Evidently to Bianco that is not a valid question. They were open for business (we counted 3 people inside, despite the fact that there were thousands of people just outside their "gate"). We walked up to said "gate" (an arbitrary line in the sand) where a pimply-faced teen growled at us that we could not cross over the line. What? We want to have dinner at Bianco's. NO, he bellowed! Perhaps he misunderstood his job, because the ONLY way to dine there was to enter from the beer fest. He told us to go away. We did. Which kinda underscores that this place only wants a "certain" uppty crowd to "enhance their dÃ©cor". Look, Bianco, if you are so paranoid, why didn't you set up a vendor table at the event so people could buy your im
aginary pizza? Why have your shop open in a controlled event if you can't let participants eat at your joint? The whole thing reinforces what so many say about Bianco's ... nice if you're a snowbird and don't know any better and even better if you're a paid reviewer who get "special treatment" for saying nice things like how the best pizza in America is located in a tourist trap in Phoenix. Good pizza, but not worth the wait nor the aggravation. I've been here the once, after hearing my girlfriend and her roommate rant and rave about it. Our group was composed of my girlfriend and myself, and two friends. First things first. Being where it is, parking is, excuse the language, a bitch. After arriving and finding that the very limited parking spaces had all been taken, I was forced to park in front of (presumably) another patron's car. Throughout the two hour wait and one hour meal, I was praying that I wouldn't get called out to move the car and find another parking space (ha, yeah
right) or, worse, get towed. After that was the wait. Oh God, the wait. Even though Bar Bianco right next door provides for a comfortable waiting spot with a great selection of wine and cheese to tide you over, two hours is two hours. Two hours is four separate deliveries from any pizza chain that knows what they're doing. Two hours is about half the drive to Las Vegas. Two hours is... well, two hours. After the two hours of wondering just how good this pizza would be, we were finally seated and given menus at a simple wooden table inside the similarly simple and comfortably home kitchen-like restaurant proper. I was hungry and expecting nothing less than food that would give me an orgasm. I didn't get it. Don't get me