Sometimes that happens, and there’s simply no choice but to go there and be amazed.
And so it is with great thankfulness that you find yourself living in a world alongside Urban Putt, the city’s only... place that’s like this place. It opens Monday.
It feels like just your everyday Victorian-era spot in here—filled with mini-golf holes involving submarines, ducks, windmills, Rube Goldberg contraptions and at least one giant pink octopus. Yup, typical Victorian.
So you’ll take a number and await your turn, deli-counter-style. But in the meantime you can head upstairs to the restaurant and bar. Play some skee-ball. Grab a table by the large windows. Have a beer and a deep-dish pizza, maybe topped with oysters, shiitake mushrooms and ramps.
Eventually, you’re up. Fourteen holes of glory. And if you’re still hungry, a nice person will bring you food on a stick while you play. Corn dogs, sure, or those fried-chicken-and-waffle skewers.
Somehow the stick makes it seem so new.