Momo2 encourages friends and families to pummel bowling pins, execute pool-trick shots, and belt out classic karaoke tunes. Patrons can quell belly rumblings with selections from Momo2's expansive menu of pub fare and drinks while comrades compete for lane supremacy on one of four bowling lanes ($2.50–$4.50/person). Brush up on geometry at the alley's twin pool tables ($2–$3.50 for an hour/person) and wear bowling shoes ($3/person) while tapping the eight ball in accordance with new regulations from the U.S. Department of Billiards. Aspiring singers can perform renditions of more than 90,000 songs in 10 different karaoke rooms of varying sizes ($25/hour for a medium room). Each karaoke room delights visitors with unique decor, such as a wall-mounted black hole that occasionally summons the specter of Elvis for a duet.
Unlike a pirate-ship kitchen, The Shrunken Head lets its visitors munch on a variety of veggie-friendly, locally sourced, and organic items that aren’t served with a side of gunpowder. Breakfast is served on weekdays until 11 a.m. and until 3 p.m. on weekends. Start the day off with an organic cappuccino ($3.25, $3.75) and The Big Lebowski's platter of two buttermilk pancakes topped with eggs ($5.50), which provides much more energy than you'd get sucking on a D-cell battery. The lunch and dinner menu features local farm meats, organic milk, local bread, and space spices that are delivered daily via teleportation. Try a fiery volcano burger with jalapeños and Montezuma chipotle-barbecue sauce ($8.75), a French-brie bagel sandwich ($6.50), or a hummus plate with olive oil and pitas ($6.25). Patrons can also soak in The Shrunken Head's tiki-bar vibe and kick back on a scenic outdoor deck that doesn’t encroach on the borders of any local jungle tribes.
The menu features Mexican staples such as tacos and fajitas side by side with American favorites such as pizza and cheeseburgers, proving that nothing unites differing factions like the gooey brotherhood of coagulated milk protein. Start the meal by plowing through a plate of gigantic nachos, a foot-tall mound of fresh seasoned tortilla chips, melted queso, shredded lettuce, jalapenos, sour cream, and tomatoes ($7.99). For an appetizing non-appetizer, order a pair of tacos that can be stuffed with barbacoa, carnitas, chorizo, or even seasoned gyro meat ($7.99–8.99). The southwestern burger (avocado, pepper jack cheese, and chipotle sauce on a half-pound patty; $7.99) and a spectrum of eight pizzas—heaped with toppings such as spicy shrimp, pesto chicken, and feta cheese—provide tasty north-of-the-border alternatives ($9.99).
As dusk turns to darkness, Sway transforms from an upscale tapas restaurant to a raucous nightclub. In the hours before the switch, tapas are the main attraction. Chefs meticulously season and garnish each small plate. To make lobster flatbread, they layer chunks of meat and shiitake mushrooms atop super-thin crusts. They prepare scallops one by one, flavoring each morsel with sesame seeds, cilantro rémoulade, or ancho mole. Signature drinks, including the key-lime-pie martini, fuel the switch to club-mode. On most weekend evenings, neon lights crisscross young crowds, spotlighting live DJs and all the dust that's floating in the air.