First off, you have to understand the settting. Franklin, Tennessee is the W.A.S.P. capital of the south. They're all monied, they're all pushy, and the sense of entitlement is so heavy in the air, you could bottle it. The place was full to the rafters, but the only ethnic minorities work in the kitchen. \r
On a Tuesday night, we waited 40 minutes for a table before leaving in disgust. But the best part (tongue in cheek) was when a local celebrity walked through the door. Now, in Franklin, Tennessee, a well-known NASCAR driver is something akin to the second coming of Christ. So, naturally, he sashays in, is stopped by an obviously adoring hostess and another male employee, who proceed to fawn over this knucklehead without regard to appearances. The dozen or so folks waiting to be seated proceed to roll eyes and smirk. I approached the hostess and asked why this guy was ushered so quickly to a table. She snapped back, ""We take call ahead seating for parties of four or less,"" and looked at me with obvious contempt. I threw my pager down on the hostess station, and walked out with my party.\r
NEVER again in a million years will I ever go back there. If you MUST go to one of these WASPY joints, go to West End or White Bridge Road in Nashville. I've never had a bad experience there. But when you're in Franklin, Tennessee, you're in a WASPY jungle of another sort. Be prepared to be treated like a hunchback peasant if you're not somebody famous (and white).
Cons: How long do you have?