Like the other reviewer on here, I also have been to Savvy many times over the last few years. I…read morewas first invited there bye a small Asian fur trader while exploring the warehouse rave subculture of the Solon/Bainbridge suburb of Cleveland. Through my numerous travels, I have rarely turned away a new adventure, but I felt a certain apprehension about this trek. Nevertheless, I spurned my better judgement and gave in to my curiosity. In all the times since, I can't explain what takes me back, a certain je ne sais quoi. But perhaps it is nothing more than a trifle into the world of the mediocre for a true man of mystery.
To get there one must trudge down the old road leading from the Heights to Little Italy. Make a hasty turn onto Random Road, and there it is, its faded and near tattered sign calling to you like a fresh kebab at a Jerusalem bazaar.
Upon entry though, the allure fades to the oxidized green that has tarnished most of the copper in this town. The ceiling, with its ornate hammered tin designs, and copper piping, hints of a better time. But the slouchy futon, reminiscent of the home of my old friend Oscar, leaves much to be desired. A CRT television sits like a donation from Sanford and Son under a bare wall where a brilliant projector once displayed classic films of yesteryear. An out-of-tune piano sits where blues legends once wove a tapestry of love and sadness in a timeless tune.
A small staircase leads you up to a small dining area. Here I was pleasantly surprised by some tasty treats; I must admit I am a sweet tooth, and while I prefer a classic chocolate chip cookie, I cannot resist an otherworldly gluten-free snickerdoodle cupcake. I usually don't eat anything other than cookies, but there was a baked brie with honey and tart apples to die for. The beverages left something to be desired--the usual cupboard filled with PBR was empty, and the subpar smattering of bottles on the counter meant my only recourse was to fill my glass with tap water. I suppose I expected too much; I mean, let's be honest, we're not talking about the Velvet Tango Room here!
I started a conversation with some of the patrons, some of whom were not too hard on the eyes, but they seemed obsessed with their respective trades and went on with endless drivel. The Savvy is not conducive to the conversational demands of high society, I had come to find out. I knew I had hit a dead end so I moved on. I saw my little Asian friend, and while she still carries a somewhat heavy accent, we exchanged some very genuine banter while pretending to understand each other, which made me feel very multicultural for a monster.
In the end, our petite host yawned and grew weary long before closing time, and that was the end. I found my way to the door, and felt that same sense of dissatisfaction when you walk out of an average film and forget to get a refill on your popcorn. It was then that I realized that I was not going to jump on a gondola and take the familiar waterways of Venice to my home. I was not going to walk the streets of Paris under the yellow glow of the City of Lights. I was on Random Road, and I had forgotten how to get home. I stopped and asked a gentleman, "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" But to no avail.
In the end I did find my way home, and I will likely find my way back to Savvy. But truly out of a yearning for times gone by, and possibly lost forever, at this little slice of old-world Cleveland.
