107 Main Street North
Lakota, ND 58344
Nelson County
Phone: (701) 247-2677
Fax: unknownWebsite: no website on fileEmail: no email on fileHours: unknown
by Olga G. on We came here with a decent Groupon deal, looking for thrifty entertainment. We left a fair bit poorer, not surprisingly. First of all, they don't take same-day lane reservations. So I shouldn't have been surprised that when we arrived at 8pm on a Friday night, we'd be asked to wait an hour for a lane. Ok, fine. Despite the fact that there were a bunch of unoccupied lanes! So we went to the bar and had a few beers... then some chicken tenders (decent tenders, but the sauces were awful!)... then some more beers (in bottles shaped like bowling pins -- I'm easy to impress). So that killed 45 minutes. Still no call. So there's a little arcade area in the back... we figured it was a decent way to kill a bit more time. The excitement died pretty quickly... so an hour into our waiting, we retired back to the main waiting area to just hang out (for free) while waiting. Again, despite the fact that there were a number of unoccupied lanes. Finally, after waiting for about 1h20m, we got our lane. The bowling was really fun... yet ridiculously expensive. $11.25/per person/per game. Plus $6-something for shoe rental. Yeah, the space is nice -- huge screens alternate between some sports games and music videos, great sound system. Yeah, we had fun... partly owing to the additional pitchers of beer we ordered during our bowling game. So all in all, it made for a good date night and a fun (yet fairly expensive) night out...
by Nancy H. on Very unique look inside with a cool asian theme. Lots of red lighting and has girls hanging from the ceiling in sheets doing acrobatics. Not a very big dance floor. the floor is interrupted by the little tables and couches where very few people actually sit.
by Angelica Schuler on It's 4:58a.m., I need to write a rateclub review. Unless I write a rateclub review of something, I won't be able to fall asleep peacefully but will instead scan my subconscious for some repressed memory of getting belched at by a fratboy in North Beach that will make the perfect rateclub review. But then, the horror that is my rateclub review internal combustion engine will start to kick into high gear and before I know it, it's 10a.m. and I'm reviewing "white people" and ready to go get coffee, 'cause at this point the logic in my brain is telling me "coffee, coffee--you can sleep when you're dead..." So, I'll review the most milktoast, hackneyed, never-really-had-that-great-of-a-time or seen anything mind-blowingly awesome place I can think of, 111 Minna. That should put me to sleep. This place is always packed packed packed with people. It's usually because of an art opening. Usually this art follows a pretty predictable formula. There will be at least 2 or 3 pieces that incorporate a drawing of an animal, usually wolf, deer, owl, etc, with something like lasers coming out of it's eyes. Oh wait, they're NEON lasers, and they're aimed/and or bounce around the page until they're focused on something from pop culture, like the lasers will hit a pair of Adidas that will then be exploding, or maybe the wolf lasers will collide with an ipod that will then be on fire. The artist's name will be written in some like unreadable graffiti font next to this obviously groundbreaking art. Totally. There will be someone DJing some crappy obscure soul or funk crap, maybe some old school hip-hop, hey, that's original! There will be like 2 girls with flawless, flowing 80's haircuts, some star or flaming heart tattoos, and fancy boots, and 2 or 3 guys with like, star or skull tattoos and tapered jeans or maybe they'll mix it up and they'll have the baggy jeans and the "SF" hat graf-kid look. They will all be talking kind of aimlessly and drinking beers and looking at people like they are at a zoo. Then there will be me. I'll walk in wearing nerdy glasses, and dressed like somebody's grandfather. I'll walk around, run into 3 or 4 people I know, say hello, fight through throngs of people to look at the art, maybe luke-warmly like one or two of the pieces, then kind of stand there and fifteen or so minutes later, I'll realize it's time to leave. Repeat 10 to 15 times a year. Every time I'm riding my bike home, I get this gnawing sensation that I really want to move somewhere else, do something more, just do anything but pay overpriced rent to live in a city with a "vibrant" arts community. Thanks, 111 Minna! Maybe one day you'll be the kick in the ass I need to actually get the fuck outta here.
