After enduring the ineptness of the young ladies at the Clarkston Cafe last Friday night, we decided to give the restaurant at the Racquet Club a shot. Surprisingly for a Friday night, there was no wait. Then, we heard it. George, a mediocre one-man-band made possible by technology, was in the corner alternating between his saxophone and clarinet with the amps turned up way too high (actually, any amplification would have been way too high). Why, oh why, did the management think this guy would draw people? If we hadn't been so hungry, we would have left for quieter surroundings. Food was okay, nothing outstanding, and probably would have been better with Muzak than George's incessant covers of Stevie Wonder.