Da Catch

Gary, IN is one of those places that everyone shits on. What bothers me is that most of the people who shit on it have never been there. In hopes of proving them wrong, I took a detour to Gary yesterday to sample the local flavor. Having thus sampled it, I too will join the chorus of people who shit on Gary. The difference is that I will have actually seen it first.

To make a long story short, Da Catch is not da catch it promises to be. Despite the colorful sign and bright advertisements on the windows, the only local flavor it offers is a taste of Gary's socio-economic woes and urban blight. Sadly, that blight is reflected in greasy fried catfish and unimpressive chicken tenders. Only the french fries, saturated with salt and crunch, lived up to the artery-hardening promise of flavor, texture and imminent heart-disease.

Gary needs a boost, so don't be afraid to venture into Da Catch or any of its competitors. But know that the experience will fill your heart with both the good feeling of contributing to a city's recovery and lots and lots of cholesterol.