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To say the Heart Attack Grill gets you off on the wrong foot is putting it mildly. They insist everyone wear a stupid hospital gown (“But what if I don’t want to?” “We really must insist that you do sir.”), refuse to give you change for a buck so you can feed the parking meters so you can eat there (“Everything here is rounded off to the dollar, sir; no one has any change.”), and then, as if to add insult to injury, play incessant 70’s music (“Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soi”) throughout your meal.
