Birthday Party

When Kenny's working the late shift, I'm left to my own devices to get food in my mouth. I fantasize about cooking brown rice and black beans with an assortment of veggies every night, but somehow that just doesn't happen. So tonight, I set out to find nourishment in the dark --running through the possibilities in my head... Fried quesadillas? Hamburgers? Sopa Azteca? Tostadas? Nothing jumps out, but then, at the end of the block I see a glow. I hear Mariachis. There's a crowd. How could I forget? Los Dorados is celebrating their 32nd birthday! It's our local taco joint where we've become regulars. There's a gentleman in a suit holding a cordless mic reminding everyone that Los Dorados is the best restaurant in town and to please help yourself to five free tacos al pastor, cake and tequila. JACKPOT. I join some grandmas on the bench with my tacos and watch the band. The restaurant employees wave hello in their new matching baseball caps, and one pours me a plastic cup of tequila. Mariachis always makes me feel goofy. Their faces look so serious, but they're wearing ridiculous outfits and singing about animal noises. The cake is this multi-layered thing with different kinds of flan, cream-cheese and spongy cake. It's good. Right when I'm about to leave --feeling satiated and thankful, the annoying announcer guy goes silent, and then the band finishes a song and starts whispering amongst themselves. Something's about to happen. One of the cooks, a short middle-aged lady with graying hair, emerges from the kitchen area. She grabs the mic and turns to face the crowd, "This song is for all of you from Michoacán." The band starts on a dime, and she belts out this ode to her home-state in a deep, husky vibrato. Ahhhhhh. I wish I could sing like that! Well, that's the end of my surprise-party story. I love being reminded of how generous and spontaneous the city can be.

-PJ