Burritos and Politics

On Friday, a group of about six of us went to my favorite Mexican Restaraunt, Los Gallanes. Now I have my own ideas about what makes a great Mexican restaraunt. Of course, the food should be excellent. There should be a lot of it, and it not be too expensive--'cause I'm cheap.

More than that, the vibe should feel uniquely Mexican. Which perfectly describes Los Gallanes. Its in a supermarket that was renovated from a True Value Hardware Store and painted in bright yellow and green. There is blaring music, and the sort of garish posters everywhere advertising upcoming concerts with guys in big cowboy hats and women with too much cleavage showing.

Then there's the service and the food. I come in one day and order a chicken burrito, and am told "no chicken today". The next time I order Eggs and Chorizo, and they have no eggs. Sometimes we get free appetizers, other times an incredible free black bean and mushroom soup. Sometimes its closed and once we came in and were told they had to wait for a health department inspection (They had just remodeled-its a very clean place).

Some people don't like this kind of uncertainty. But I love it. Its the sort of adventure that living in Latino culture can be like. Nothing runs with the same Gringo efficiency, but the latin charm and good humor makes it worth the trouble. There's enough places where you can go and get the same food for the same price in the same amount of time-go to McDonalds or Wendy's if you want this kind of banal dining experience.

Anyway, my credibility with my friends from work was about shot. They told me this was my last chance and were starting a pool with reasons why the restaraunt would not be open. So I called and spoke to the waitress (and check-out girl) and she assured me the cook would be in before lunch and it was ok to come. We came, we ate and had a great time. The service was slow, but the salsa was outstanding and we were given two great big plates of really good guacamole. The next day at work, my friend Chad and I had the following conversation:

"I had a dream Friday where a burrito came to my house and talked to me. I think that means there is something wrong with the burritos. "
"Really? What did it talk to you about? Was it Chicken or Beef? Did it have the yellow sauce?"
"It had the sauce. We discussed how cold it was, and how John Edwards makes empty promises. Wish I could make stuff up that cool."
"So did it have arms and legs and eyes?"
"It didn't have arms, but it had legs and was wearing tennis shoes."
"Did it have an accent?"
"No, it just sat down on my bed and talked like a normal person. I told my Mom about it, she got mad and told me not to say anything bad about John Edwards."
"Maybe if he would have reached out to the Latino community like Hilary has, he could have got more support from giant talking burritos."
"Yep..."

While he seemed almost blasé about the whole thing, I could tell it was eating at him. I told him he needed to let it all out or the burrito would win. He'd see the burrito everywhere. Finally, he aquiesed and did some informal art therapy and drew the burrito. Here is the burrito in his room. Note the Jarritos Pineapple soda on the nightstand.




It seemed to help a little. So he pushed through the pain and drew the burrito again. This time as a defiant and powerful figure for change, leading this new political revolution against insincere politics. At first, it almost reminded me of Diego Rivera's iconic murals of Zapata, but then I cleaned my glasses and realized it was just a burrito.



Three days later, I tried to talk Chad into going for burritos again today, but he had this haunted look in his eyes and he began to shake visibly. I decided to let it drop-it was still all too fresh...

Juanito