You can't phone ahead to place your order at Paradise - or so I thought anyway. I urge you to learn from my mistake; I only realised when a guy pressed behind me tapped me on the shoulder asking if this was the line for phone pick-ups.
It wasn't, and it wasn't even really a line, more like a heaving, hungry mob, each of us longingly gazing at every bag of food brought out by sweatily harried staff hoping they were about to call our name.
After snaking through the queue to place our order, my flatmate and I spent a good 45 minutes waiting for it to be our turn.
One guy couldn't stand it and shouted at the staff doing their best behind the counters about his order going missing, and then a different guy shouted back at him not to be such a dick, and then heaps of people shouted that there were kids here and could they simmer down, so they did, and that part of the wait was very interesting, especially because I didn't have my phone.
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Paradise's popularity is legendary; three enormous buildings on one tiny stretch of Sandringham Rd are kept thriving by the crowds who throng here every night of the week, whether to eat in, take out or challenge themselves to the buffet.
It's stipulated that the staff read you your order before you leave (who wants to re-enter the fray just because they forgot your naan?) but we somehow ended up with too much rice (though they only charged us for the one we ordered) and an entire extra curry than we thought we'd ordered.
The takeaway bags and boxes are extraordinarily sturdy - they pack them high at Paradise and it's a miracle nothing breaks or spills, reaching home perfectly intact and warm as ever.
God it was glorious.
Three naan ($6), lollipop chicken ($11), a mango lassi slurped up within seconds of purchase ($3), paneer butter masala ($11) and saag paneer ($13), those luscious little rectangles of cheese, chicken jalfrezi ($14) and a fish malai curry ($15). We were eating it for days.