Oh, my god, the traffic! The smartest thing is actually turn away from Old Town and park in grass lots set aside for all the extra traffic. Now, you're a human game of Frogger, quick-stepping your way across 192 before the light changes. It was 500-plus paces from my car to Old Town's border.
Arriving: Blue Max is named for a Prussian military medal with a French name (Pour le Mérite) given to German flying ace Baron Manfred von Richthofen also known as the Red Baron. Somehow, that translates into a British-style pub layout, decorated with plane memorabilia.
Scoping: Without checking ID's, I think it's safe to say that my friends and I were just about the only local customers in the place. The packed crowd ran from retired Brit couples to a Southern mother/daughter country karaoke duo to the blow-dried dude in a sports coat talking up the drunk chick in a too short (for her) skirt.
Drinking: Blue Max has a specially brewed beer named for the bar and I'd love to tell you about a $4.50 pint of the brew but they were out. Oh, the signs proclaiming this custom quaff were in the street, but the keg was dry. Instead, I settled for a 21-ounce Bud draft (also $4.50) and a Bacardi and Coke ($6.30)
Chewing: The biggest hassle of eating at Blue Max was getting the waitress to acknowledge my existence. After 10 minutes at a corner table and a promise from the bar manager that he'd send her over, we moved to a more visible table. After another 10 minutes, I walked up to the waitress and told her how much I'd love to buy some food. I made eye contact with her at least four more times as she walked right past our table. If I wasn't there to write a review, I would have left.
When she finally did come over, she was perfectly pleasant, which left me wondering how I had fallen into a parallel dimension or wormhole where the last 25 minutes never happened.
The mozzarella sticks ($4.95) and potato skins ($4.95) didn't blow me away, but both are above average. I hate when you get big fat-breaded mozzarella sticks and they're half-hollow. Blue Max's sticks don't cheat you on the cheese. Same with the skins an adequate amount of cheese and bacon when they could probably get away with less.
Blue Max proclaims their chili ($4.75) as "world famous" and "best damn chili in Orlando." We can quibble over whether beans belong in real chili, but for me, the big problem is that my bowl arrived at room temperature. I was impressed by the big hunks of beef and peppers, but could you throw it in the microwave for a minute?
The hamburger with fries ($5.95) is a half-pound patty. While clearly pre-formed, it was bigger than I expected. Cooked to the medium I ordered, it's a flavorful burger, but I wouldn't call it "juicy."
Going: I'd give the men's room a five on the funk scale 10 being "roses" and 0 being "rolled downhill in a portable toilet."
Departing: What surprised me most is that I didn't feel ripped off. Pissed off by lousy service? Yes. Ripped off by tourist price gouging? A little on the drinks, but not so much on the food. In the right frame of mind and with a bunch of friends, I could have a good time at Blue Max as long as I'm not the one who drove there and I order at the bar.
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