In the city known for exciting new cuisine, fusion foods, cheap and delicious eats on every corner, and 24 hour old school establishments, what do I have a craving for?
Right. Mexican. Because I walked by a stupid Chipotle and wanted guacamolez (I know that's misspelled, but a little dog just walked across my laptop and that was her contribution - I figure somehow it adds street cred).
After a hilarious adventure on the subway (Big got stuck in the turnstile because she volunteered to carry my giant kit bag), we tried to figure out what to eat. She pulled out piles of take out menus to give me an idea of what we were working with and also looked online for restaurants nearby.
I just wanted a mouthful of delicious Chipotle guac and chips. All 3948483 calories. In my stomach. We ordered from Burritoville. While we were waiting for delivery, I tried to build a fort in Big's living room with the leftover furniture/appliance boxes (she just recently moved). She stared at me for maybe 30 seconds before dragging every single big and usable box out into the hallway.
Burritoville came and I shoved half the burrito into my mouth. Literally. The combination of shredded chicken, flavored rice, and tomatillo salsa was heaven. Big ordered something with tofu and black beans and when we first saw it, I thought someone had mistakenly delivered a baby a la this newspaper clipping:
The next night, Little, Voorhees, and baby dingos Taser and Rosa come into town. Upon my fantastic recommendation, Little has opted to take the megabus from Philadelphia to NYC. Trouble began prior to boarding when she called me to ask if the megabus stop has a sign. Why yes, yes it does. You don't see it? Maybe it's because you're on the wrong corner.
Directing her to the right place, yelling that the bus is going to drive off and leave her backpack toting ass behind, we are confident in our success. An hour and a half later, I'm still confident in success - just not megabus's.
Everyone else is already in NYC. It's 4th of July weekend, we have no reservations for dinner anywhere, so we suggest that the group head over to Blockheads (a local Mexican place) to grab a spot and some drinks. Instead, they insist that we all walk as a group. Mainly because they are currently shopping for shoes.
Little rolls into town and we all meet outside the Borders, the one I am intimately familiar with. We walk through Times Square, which is a nightmare because sweaty large touristing men keep bumping into me. It's like I am a bag of crispy BBQ flavored pork rinds. Everytime I accidentally touch one, I die a little on the inside because the... scent... is overwhelming.
We get to Blockheads and there's a 40 minute wait. Our party puts its name on the list and sits down in the courtyard outside by this large fountain. While we're waiting, this man comes up to us and asks us to help him in this survey he has. The following are his questions and our answers:
Q: What is the first thing you notice about me?
Little: Clipboard
Taser: You look a little nicer dressed.
Rosa: Yah, your clothes make you stand out a bit. And your glasses.
Winnie: Your belt and shoes match.
Voorhees: You have a clipboard.
Q: What do you think of help?
Taser: I don't like asking for help. And I don't like helping people.
Rosa: You are a horrible person. Terrible. I don't like asking for help, but I like helping people.
Little: I agree, I like helping people, that's probably why I want to be a doctor.
Winnie: When I think of help, I think of natural disaster. Like the tsunami and Katrina. In both those situations, help didn't come in the forms it needed to. Know why? Because the victims were minorities. And no one likes helping minorities.
Voorhees: .... I like helping people.
Q: What do you think of control?
Taser: I don't like not having control.
Rosa: I think some things you can control and other things you can't.
Little: I think you can control most things in your life.
[discussion/debate between the two ensue]
Winnie: Wait... control like BDSM?
Voorhees: I think you can control most things in your life.
Q: If you could learn technology that would help people, would you do it?
Rosa: Yes. What kind of person wouldn't say yes to that?
Little: Taser.
Winnie: Wait... does it also help me? And would I be obligated to use it to help others? Or could I choose? Fine, fine, yes, I would learn it.
Taser: So you could charge people to help them.
Winnie: That's why you're my favorite.
Voorhees: Taser.
An hour passes, we're still not seated. Big has gone up multiple times. Voorhees's older sister (who is meeting us for drinks) has also gone up. Finally, they push two tables together and we sit down, starving and enraged from our wait. We order $3 margaritas and start devouring chips and salsa. The margaritas come and I had ordered mine "raspberry" because a) I have low tolerance and b) I am allergic to alcohol. It tastes like a slurpee spiked with moonshine-tequila-made-in-prison-toilet-bowl.
The guac is not much more impressive. It is a pile of avocado (and by pile, I mean half an avocado) in a little taco shell. Hungrily, we shovel it down. I order a Mexican chicken wrap which is basically the exact thing I had the night before. Except it comes with fries.
As the alcohol hits me (yes, from one watered-down drink), I "secretly" sneak bites of other people's food. And by secretly, read: lean across the table and say "shhhh" in a completely nondescript manner. I am also trying to wink at this point, but my eyes are even smaller than normal and my wink is an exaggerated blink.
In addition, we get a refill of complimentary chips and salsa so we can pour it into our doggie bags to take home. And by we, I mean me. Don't hate, I'm traveling on a budget.
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