Enormous projection screens and flat-panel TVs show sports night and day at Club 33. In between their own color commentary, patrons dig into hearty bar food—bacon topped burgers, sandwiches with gooey cheese, and golden-baked pizzas. On Friday and Saturday nights, a DJ takes the stage, as patrons shimmy out on the dance floor or atop pool tables to distract their opponents. There is also a karaoke/bike night on Thursdays and the bar typically accepts new teams into its pool league.
For more than 15 years, Star Cinemas has screened new and recent releases in its clean, well-maintained facilities. The family-owned theater, with locations in Hillsboro and Grove City, offers handicap access and hearing-impaired service and is conveniently located near major highways and out of the sightlines of roving T-1000s.
The Maennerchor—which means "men's chorus" and is the shortest word in the German language—was established as a private German singing club in 1848 and hasn't changed a thing since, other than knocking down a poorly placed wall in 1989. Men, women, and children proud of their common heritage with Heidi Klum still gather to sing drinking songs from the fatherland, wear festive rawhide shorts, file paperwork, and dine on delicious German essen und trinken at Zum Rathskeller, the Maennerchor's traditional cellar restaurant, which was constructed by authentic German crafts-gnomes and exudes a cuckoo-clocked, Old World atmosphere. Der menu is packed with classic Deutscher dishes such as potato pancakes served with apple sauce ($6.90), schnitzel with potato salad ($12.90), and sauerbraten ($15.90), which comes with braised cabbage and pairs well with Warsteiner lager ($3.50 a glass, $9.75 a pitcher). And ask about the Rathskeller's wildly popular sauerkraut balls; they go really well with the bratwurst ($10.90), for some reason.
In Radio & Juliet, artistic media and historical conventions cross-pollinate on stage as the themes of Shakespeare and the music of Radiohead coalesce into a stark framework for Ballet Maribor’s minimalist forms. Dancers exploit the sense of alienation that permeates singer Thom Yorke’s voice to full effect, spinning in counter-clockwise pirouettes to symbolize their defiance of the passage of time. In swapping the Bard’s dramatic romance for Blue Tooth shades of melancholy, the production taps into an expression of longing attraction that the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette called “white hot in a way that Shakespeare could never have imagined.” Main-floor seats in the lavish, gold-swathed Palace Theatre, which was designed in the 1930s to mimic the Palace of Versailles, open up unobstructed views of the action.