Downtown Omaha: The Worst Wrong Turn You'll Ever Make

Omaha -- supposedly the "Jewel of the Midwest." Omaha Magazine, located in our hotel room, was brimming with exciting dining and entertainment options in the Old Market, the classy arts district downtown.

When browsing the Old Market's web site, it boasted a good 20 upscale restaurants, luxury shopping and an Old World ambience.

We were soon to discover it was less "Old World" and more "Third World" than anything else.

I'm not exactly sure how we ended up on a street corner, watching as a prostitute dressed in a skimpy, sleazy slipdress entered a very questionable establishment. I'm also not sure how we ended up crossing paths with a gentleman who was very obviously packing a handgun and muttering obscenities over his shoulder. And I'm not sure how we ended up in front of the Greyhound bus station where vagrants and hoodlums were congregating.

It kinda just happened.

Though we had just invested about $2.00 in a parking meter in the heart of "Old Market," we decided after about 20 minutes of walking by abandoned warehouses and factories and getting hit on by several creepers in souped-up Buicks that it was time to book it.

But even after we escaped the hellhole that was downtown Omaha, we couldn't seem to get out of the Projects! We kept driving and driving and the slums seemed to stretch for as far as the eye could see. The only eating establishments we encountered on this 25-minute detour were McDonald's, Domino's and a dilapidated Mexican food place where we suspect a drug deal was going down.

Finally, we located an oasis amid the grossness that was the "premier arts and entertainment district" (and I use the word 'oasis' loosely). Farrel's Bar was the name, and greasy food was the game. We ordered some less-than-savory sandwiches and quickly got out.

Fortunately, however, there was one safe restaurant open in the city. It was a posh establishment known as Steak & Chops, located below the Garden Marriott. To redeem a night that had quickly gone down the pot, we ordered dessert from an obliging waiter known as Jonathon and his humble sidekick Jose.

The dessert was divine. Hot apple pie a la mode and strawberry shortcake that was short on neither flavor nor size. These desserts were literally so big and rich that we couldn't finish them, even after our paltry dinner at Farrel's Bar.

And so ended a scary and tasty evening in downtown Omaha.