Editor's note: This is the second in a regular series on the alternate world of the Houston tunnel system. It's time to go underground.

There is nothing more frustrating then when you think you know exactly where you are in the tunnels and then all of a sudden you make a turn and realize that underground you can be both really close and miles away from your destination. Especially when you pause at the color-coded signs, only to get jostled aside by the supremely confident tunnel people who, like their documentaried New York brethren, have found familiarity and a way of life underground, although with less mental health and hygiene issues.

Finding my destination required actually leaving the tunnels, walking across the street and walking down again, a process that I consider cheating, but one that saved me an estimated two hours. What was all this fuss for? The first underground Fuddruckers, which opened in July beneath 1100 Louisiana.

I'm not going to apologize for my Fuddruckers guilty pleasure. As a kid I rode my bike four miles (each way!) to Fuddruckers to put my order in under the name Janet Jackson, stuff myself and then own at Galaga in the game room.

I like Fuddrucker's for three reasons, in equal part: The hamburger buns are really sweet and fluffy, the wedge fries with extra spices are really delicious, and the Oreo milkshakes make me really happy when I get to the bottom and it's a chunky swirl of soggy cookies and sugar milk.

So hitting the tunnel Fuddrucker's counter, the news that there are no milkshakes — I repeat, no milkshakes — at the version was no small issue. The menu was an abbreviated list of the classic burger and a few specialties, plus salads and fries, of course. The location has three futuristic soda machines that have only one spout and what seems like endless choices — you can click on Coca-Cola, for example, and then choose between original Coke, Lime Coke, Cherry Coke, Vanilla Coke, Cherry Vanilla Coke and even Orange Coke.

Kids who used to be content with making a suicide from only six choices are going to lose their minds. Unfortunately, since there's only one caffeine spout with interchangable syrups, that means if the machine is flat, everything in it is flat. And two out of three were undrinkably flat when I was there — yuck.

My order was ready in about five minutes — not fast food times, for sure, but relatively quick. The burger was just how I remember it: a buttery, golden, fresh-made bun that seemed to have a perfect circular arch, with everything in between both adequate and unmemorable. I'm not sure at what point the bun flavor being the centerpiece of a burger is a dig at the meat or cheese, but I'm not complaining.

The whole toppings area has been pared down, so if you like anything more obscure than spicy mustard, you might come up short. The wedge fries were thick, soft and spicy, just like I like them.

I did like that in this particular tunnel corner, the seating is separated and branded between Fuddruckers and neighboring Treebeards — it feels more like a restaurant and less like an endless airport terminal. And the lack of the weird 1960s circus decor is a huge plus.

The next time I crave the Fudd, I'll probably drive out of downtown rather than scour the tunnels again, just for the milkshake alone. (It's just not the same without it, even if I'm drinking Cherry Dr. Pepper.)

Do you secretly (or not-so-secretly) dig Fuddruckers? What's your favorite burger in the tunnels?