Well… it finally happened. Apollo’s Greek Kitchen, the iconic late-night lifeline for countless Ohio State students, has officially closed its doors. No announcement. No farewell post. Just quietly… gone. And if you’ve ever stumbled up those steps at 1:45 AM after one too many Natty Lights, you know this one hurts.
Another Late-Night Legend Bites the Dust
For those who don’t know (aka didn’t go to Ohio State or were responsible enough to cook at home), Apollo’s wasn’t just a place to get food. It was a place to be lovingly roasted by the guy behind the counter for pronouncing “gyro” wrong. It was a place where your buzzed brain somehow thought “cheesesteak and fries at 2 AM” was a necessary part of the college experience. And it was.
Apollo’s wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t polished. But it was ours. And now it’s gone.
Slowly but Surely, We’re Losing Them All
Catfish Biff’s? Gone. The building still sits there like a weird, haunted pizza shrine. I swear I can still smell the greasy pepperoni slices when I walk past. Bier Stube? Demolished…
Late-night options around South Campus are vanishing one by one, and it feels like a whole era of Ohio State life is slipping away with them.
We’re not just losing restaurants — we’re losing the weird, wonderful chaos that made High Street what it was. And yes, I get it. The city and the university want to make campus feel like an extension of the Short North. But in doing that, we’re watching small, hardworking business owners — the same folks who kept us fed and vaguely functioning in college — get pushed out. It sucks.
The End of an Era… and the Beginning of Burger Royale?
According to a recent Facebook post, the space will soon be taken over by a Pulp Fiction-themed burger joint called Burger Royale. I hope it’s great. Truly. But it’ll be hard to replicate the odd, perfect vibe that Apollo’s had. The chaos. The charm. The way the food always hit so hard when you were 80% beer and 20% bad decisions.
Thanks for Everything, Apollo’s
If you know, you know. Walking up those stairs. The dim lights. The old menus. The small bar seats at the end of the counter. The guy yelling at you to “hurry up and order already.” And finally, the warm, greasy masterpiece you barely remember eating.
We’ll miss you, Apollo’s. Thanks for being there when we needed you most. And thanks for the gyros — however you’re actually supposed to say it.