Olympia Gyros — Restaurant in Warner Robins

⭐☆☆☆☆

I don’t even know where to begin with my experience at Olympia Gyros. I walked in thinking I’d just get a quick bite to eat, but what actually happened felt like stepping into some bizarre fever dream designed by a chaotic game developer.

I ordered a gyro plate and sat down, ready to enjoy my meal. At first, everything seemed normal—until, mid‑bite, the front doors exploded open with a metallic screech. I thought maybe a truck hit the curb. Nope. In storm a squad of cyborg android crocodiles, wires sparking from their jaws and glowing red eyes scanning the room like they were searching for fugitives. Their claws clinked against the tile floor as they marched in, and I froze, gyro halfway to my mouth.

Now, you’d think the employees would panic or try to call the police, right? Wrong. Every single employee—every cashier, every cook—was huddled in the corner by the soda machine, completely ignoring the chaos, locked in an intense round of Dance Dance Revolution on some arcade mat they’d dragged into the dining room. The restaurant speakers weren’t playing calm background music anymore; they were blasting some kind of J‑pop techno beat, while the employees stomped feverishly on flashing arrows, sweat pouring down their faces, as if this was just another Tuesday night.

The crocodiles? They didn’t even attack. They just slowly turned their mechanical heads toward the tables, sat down in perfect unison, and then—no joke—each of them said in a deep, robotic voice: “Monday.” Exactly like Garfield. The tone. The delivery. I felt my brain short‑circuit.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, a glowing rift opened in the middle of the restaurant. Out of it floated an enormous piece of lasagna, golden and steaming, its noodles shimmering with otherworldly light. It hovered there, let out a single, earth‑shaking word— “Boof.” —and then disappeared into sparks, leaving behind only the faint smell of tomato sauce and despair.

At this point, I’m trying to figure out if I’ve been drugged by the tzatziki. But then I see the boss of the place in the back, instead of handling the situation, sitting at a counter with a laptop… playing Roblox. Just casually clicking away, as if nothing else mattered. I could literally see the cyborg crocodiles reflected in his screen, but he didn’t care—he was too busy building a blocky obby while the world crumbled around him.

And then—this is where it went from bad to apocalyptic—the door bursts open AGAIN, and in walks Roblox himself. I don’t know how to explain this, but I just knew it was him. He was dressed in that iconic Robloxian style, all blocky with a yellow head, and he marched straight up to the boss without saying a word. He pulled out some kind of giant admin panel from his back pocket, typed a single command, and the boss’s laptop immediately went black. On the screen in bold red letters it just said: “BANNED.” The boss screamed like a banshee, fell to his knees, and dropped his headset.

Meanwhile, my gyro is getting cold.

I can’t even tell you how unsettling it was to sit there, trying to eat, while cyborg crocodiles mumbled “Monday,” employees stomped on DDR pads, lasagna ghosts whispered “boof,” and the boss got permanently banned by a real-life Roblox manifestation. Nobody offered me a refund. Nobody apologized. The only thing I left with was a sense of confusion, terror, and the taste of cold lamb.

**Never...

⭐☆☆☆☆

Let me just start by saying, Olympia Gyros has officially RUINED my concept of reality. I walked in expecting maybe a decent gyro, some fries, maybe a Coke. But what I got was a NIGHTMARE straight out of the deepest corner of fanfiction hell.

The moment I walked in, the air was heavy… too heavy. I should’ve known something was off when the soda fountain started whispering about IRS audits. Then suddenly—BAM. A skeleton in an orange hoodie, brown shorts, and brown shoes (he called himself “J”) just APPEARED out of the kitchen holding a stack of W-2 forms and cackling like he was the first man in history to invent tax evasion. He starts explaining loopholes to a poor old couple just trying to eat their gyros in peace. Customers are staring, the cashier looks traumatized, and fries are falling from the ceiling like confetti.

Then—AND I’M NOT JOKING—every single gyro on the grill BURST open like alien eggs and out came T-Rexes the size of minivans, covered in tzatziki sauce, roaring loud enough to shake the neon “OPEN” sign. People are screaming, pita bread is flying, and one guy in the corner is still calmly dipping his falafel like NOTHING’S WRONG.

As if THAT wasn’t enough, Sans from Undertale teleports in, looking like he just walked out of a Tumblr post circa 2015. He points at J, squints, and mutters, “you’re gonna have a bad time.” And then, RIGHT THERE IN THE DINING ROOM, they start fighting. Bones fly through the air like french fries in a blender. Ketchup packets EXPLODE like grenades. Tables get flipped, chairs are shattered. The cook doesn’t even look up from the grill.

And here’s where it gets worse. In the middle of writing this review on my phone, I realize my hands… aren’t mine anymore. Chara takes over. Yeah. The literal possessed demon child from Undertale hijacks my Yelp account and starts narrating in my head. Suddenly the review isn’t mine—it’s theirs. Chara describes the fight in excruciating detail: J dodging bones, Sans teleporting behind him, blood-red text scrolling across my vision. Every word tastes like metal. Every keystroke is pain. I can’t stop typing.

I finally wrestle control back—and who do I see sitting at the corner booth, calmly cutting into a lamb gyro? Dexter Morgan. Not TV Dexter Morgan. Canon Dexter Morgan. He looks up at Angel Batista, who’s somehow ALSO THERE, and says, dead serious: “No blood, no trabajo.” Batista just nods like this makes sense while sipping his Pepsi. The T-Rexes roar in the background, Sans throws another Gaster Blaster, and Dexter just wipes his mouth with a napkin like he’s at Sunday brunch.

Meanwhile, the cashier STILL asks me if I want extra tzatziki.

By the time I ran out of the restaurant, the “OPEN” sign was glowing in blood-red Comic Sans font, J was doing Fortnite dances while avoiding IRS agents, and I swear I heard Chara laughing inside my head, telling me to leave a one-star review or else.

So here it is. One star. Food: 2/10, gyro was cold. Atmosphere: 0/10, unless you like apocalyptic Undertale boss fights. Service: -999/10, cashier didn’t warn me about the T-Rexes.

**Would not recommend unless you’re trying to lose your sanity and your tax...

⸻

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ A Truly Exceptional Experience at Olympia Gyro!

From the moment we walked in, I was impressed by how clean and beautifully decorated the restaurant was — classy and welcoming, with a warm atmosphere that felt perfect for both a nice night out and a casual meal with my toddler.

The food was absolutely incredible. I had the chicken gyro sandwich with pita, and it was hands-down one of the best gyros I’ve ever had in my life. The portion was huge — I honestly don’t know how I managed to eat the whole thing, but it was too delicious to leave a single bite behind!

My five-year-old had the chicken shish kebabs with fries, and the serving was so generous, even for a hungry kid! He loved every bite, which is a huge win when dining with a toddler.

To top it all off, the service was fantastic. The staff was attentive, kind, and made us feel right at home. Olympia Gyro is now one of our favorite spots, and we’ll definitely be back soon. Highly recommend to anyone looking for fresh, flavorful food and a top-tier dining experience!

We are visiting my parents who live here, so we will make sure to make this a place we visit anytime we visit from Florida! Go give this place...