- Jun 22, 2004
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There's this one Mexican restaurant I love, but it's in a really tough neighborhood. I grew up one block next to this restaurant so I've been going here for over 35 years. Last month while I was there, I saw this happened to one of the cars in their parking lot:
I was in my car trying to get closer for a better pic than this, when I noticed that the people who did it were still about 50 feet away. So I got out of dodge.
This month I went back around midnight. I ordered my usual and the waitress asked if I wanted to go. I said no. She asked if I was sure. I said I wanted to eat here. Well, she kept asking me over and over again five times whether I wanted it to go and if I was sure. I kept insisting that I would eat it there.
Then it hit me. The entire restaurant was filled with these guys:
They were wearing Mongol gear, getting drunk and all staring at the only non-Hispanic in the place who drove there in a fancy sports car. And then I felt like this:
I changed my order to go.
I was in my car trying to get closer for a better pic than this, when I noticed that the people who did it were still about 50 feet away. So I got out of dodge.
This month I went back around midnight. I ordered my usual and the waitress asked if I wanted to go. I said no. She asked if I was sure. I said I wanted to eat here. Well, she kept asking me over and over again five times whether I wanted it to go and if I was sure. I kept insisting that I would eat it there.
Then it hit me. The entire restaurant was filled with these guys:
They were wearing Mongol gear, getting drunk and all staring at the only non-Hispanic in the place who drove there in a fancy sports car. And then I felt like this:
I changed my order to go.
