“WHAT’LL YA HAVE?” That’s the first thing you hear when you walk into The Varsity. Actually, you’ll hear a chorus of “what’ll ya haves” from a long lineup of counter men and women, or perhaps a brusque “Next in line!” or a shouted request to move “all the way down!” And guess what? When your cashier barks “What’ll ya have?” four times in a row, ya better be ready with an answer.

When they found out I was going to Atlanta on a travel writing assignment, several coworkers told me I had to make the pilgrimage to The Varsity. “It’s just a classic.” “The onion rings are to die for.” “You’ve got to try the Varsity Orange; it tastes just like a melted dreamsicle.” All pretty high recommendations. My manager said it had been featured on the Food Network. This has got to be a no-brainer, I reasoned. It went on my schedule right after a behind-the-scenes tour of the Fox Theatre.  

My theater tour was at 10 a.m. and I decided not to eat breakfast beforehand, so I was starving by noon. The restaurant is within walking distance of the Fox and I had a map—but I walked right past without realizing it, even though The Varsity’s Web site touts it as “the world’s largest drive-in.” It doesn’t look very big, maybe because the short side of the long, rectangular building faces the street. I’m talking, of course, about the original downtown Varsity, which opened in 1928 on a little plot of land surrounded by a white picket fence. (There are four other metro Atlanta locations and also one in Athens.)

I’m not sure when it became famous, but certainly this place is well known for feeding thousands of people after Georgia Tech football games. And those numbers lead to stats like 2,500 pounds of potatoes and 300 gallons of chili whipped up from scratch daily. The Varsity’s reputation also rests on the lingo used to describe the menu items. A “naked dog” is a plain hot dog on a bun. A “heavyweight” is a hot dog with extra chili. A “glorified burger” is a hamburger with mayo, lettuce and tomato. “Ring one” is an order of onion rings, “strings” an order of fries. “Sideways” means onions on the side. And apparently the harried counter crew doesn’t take kindly to someone who stands there hemming and hawing. In other words, there’s a drill. Okay, I can dig that. I composed myself, took a deep breath and then walked into the fray, determined to be a model customer.

It was lunch rush time, and cacophonous about describes it. The place was crowded, loud and chaotic. There are at least 10 cashiers, and the best thing to do is get in one line and just stay there—otherwise you’ll end up being tossed around like a sailboat in the middle of a hurricane. But waiting gave me time to quickly peruse the menu, which basically boils down to dogs, burgers, chicken sandwiches, rings, fries, desserts and drinks. I quickly knew what I wanted: a chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomato and fries (but the rings looked awfully good) and a large Varsity Orange. I also ordered a glorified burger. A guilty conscience prevented me from adding a fried apple or peach pie. When my turn came I was ready. “Combo #8, fries, glorified burger, large orange.”

After a few minutes you get your food on a red plastic cafeteria tray; then you try and find a place to sit. Ambience? Zilch—we’re talking plastic tables, plastic chairs that scrape on the floor, kids constantly barreling through and boisterous frat boys shouting “Dude! Where’s my fries?”—with a constant soundtrack of “What’ll ya have?” echoing in the background.  And dear readers, none of this would matter if I had been transported to fast-food nirvana. But unfortunately I was not. The glorified burger was a Krystal-sized puck topped with an indifferent shower of shredded iceberg (and almost white iceberg at that), a meager sprinkling of diced tomato and condiments on a soft, characterless bun. That’s it. The chicken sandwich was somewhat bigger but not really better. The fries (a few peels left intact) were okay if limp, but I’d be lying if I said they were better than the fries at McDonald’s. And dreamsicle richness was conspicuously lacking in the Varsity Orange, which tasted more like Koolaid (in fact I didn’t finish it). All told, I consumed everything in about 10 minutes.

On a one to 10 scale, my bang for the buck rating would be about 4. But let’s face it—you don’t go to The Varsity for the food; you go for the experience. Now I’ve been there, done that, and the next time I get a craving for a fast-food burger I’ll be heading to Burger King for a Whopper. I’m an open-minded guy, though; does anyone out there have a different take?  The Varsity is at 61 North Ave., just across the I-75/I-85 Connector from the Georgia Institute of Technology. Parking is available, but it would be easier to take Marta’s North-South line and get off at the North Avenue station; The Varsity is a couple of blocks west. There’s an ATM on site, and they also accept plastic.