I’d been told The Moebius Strip was supposed to be the modern equivalent of an old English pub, with classic pub food—pasties, fish and chips, and the like—as well as obscure British ales and malts, a monthly dart championship, and weekly pub quizzes.
What it turned out to be was a funhouse replica with a minimalist dark-stained interior, flimsy modern-design chairs and tables, plastic wood accents on the walls, Guinness in bottles, and loud Beatles-era music. Obviously, the designer had never been to England and had gotten ideas from some very odd sources.
Manny said he’d been meaning to go to the Strip after it opened last semester, but had been caught up with teaching and being a mentor and leader at the local l***q center. So we experienced the mess calling itself a pub at the same t
