Tales From The Olive Garden: No Breadsticks, No Peace Part 2

The Times Square Olive Garden

If there is a sort of inverse mirror universe version of the decaying Mad Max style post apocalyptic hellscape much of America is turning into, it would be Times Square. A Twilight Zone-like area of out-sized versions of corporate chains and soulless eateries is home to the world’s largest Olive Garden.

Tourists can travel hundreds of miles to visit the most ubiquitous chain of fake-Italian eateries and pay half again what they’d normally pay for the worst pasta creations in creation. The only reason for the NY OG to exist seems to be to fleece rubes to the tune of $400 for New Years Eve dinner.

Loyal readers will recall that we previously chronicled the OG’s pastageddon and its aftermath. Writer Joe Wadlington brings us a more intimate tale of terror in the garden of olives. He recently dated a former manager of the Times Square Olive Garden and related the true tales of madness on his twitter feed. Read on to learn how running out of bread sticks is worse than a knife fight.

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