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Generally eating dinner
in a dungeon would be an unpleasant experience. You have the rats
and the dripping water and the whole screams-of-agony thing (which
can be wholly unpleasant if you've ever experienced it first hand).
It can really put a damper on the mood as you munch your tilapia and
frijoles. While Suba may in fact be dungeonous, it is the furthest
thing from a medieval death sentence. The majority of the restaurant
is housed in a brick basement space with metal catwalks on which you,
uh, walk and sit about a foot or so above a floor covered with an
indeterminate depth of water. To call it a moat would imply there
was some sort of drawbridge and a bunch of pukies in NASCAR hats eating
giant shank bones while screaming at knights making $5.25 an hour.
It's just not that kind of joint. What it is is a total deathtrap
for drunkards like me. There were several times during the evening
that I swore I'd just keel over into the pool. The reflections of
the water on the unadorned masonry walls just added to my feeling
of euphoria (along with the strong-as-hell mojitos), and I felt myself
being lulled into a sense of safety and calm that I haven't felt since
I don't know when ... With death by drowning only a stray footfall
away, it was a false sense, but what do I know? I was at a point where
they could have thrown a half-chewed sack of gummy worms in front
of my gaping yaw and I would have gladly chowed down and enjoyed those
sugar-infused horse hooves right down to the last segment. Just my
luck; the sevrer was nice enough to skip the kiddie treats and bring
me a nice seafood lasagna appetizer and an awesome Lubina Asada entree
that loosely translates to "sea bass covered and/or floating in tasty
stuff." As it turns out, I didn't fall into the water, and actually
managed to not return my fish to the sea. What a feat. What a night.
[MF]
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