Taco Sunday

 

I like Chinese and Mexican restaurants. Not just for the food, but because the food always comes out quickly. Mexican restaurants waste no time. You order and two minutes later a hot dish is plopped on the table in front of you. Delicious tacos and that bubbling brown lava called refried beans.

Yesterday Dennis and I decided to go out for dinner. Dennis suggested Mexican food, a nice place he wanted to try up in Andersonville. I looked at the menu on line and it seemed fine, so we went. We sat out on the patio where we sipped our margaritas and cervezas while watching the comings and goings of the crowd. It was very pleasant, for the first hour. That was when Dennis looked over at another table that had been seated forty five minutes after we had, and they were being served food. Okay, maybe the waiter figured we were talking and not in a rush. We had ordered food, so we checked with him. A look of puzzlement came over his face. He rushed off into the kitchen and then came back.

"I'm so sorry. There was a mix up in the kitchen. Now, you had the mole chicken." He said while looking at Dennis, "And you had...."

"No, that's not what we ordered." Dennis blurted out, "I had chicken fajitas."

"Oh, my. I'm so sorry." He then looked back at me.

"I had an al pastor, carnita, and fish tacos."

"I'll put that order right in." He said as he rushed off.

So Dennis and I sat there and talked, all the while I kept watching the kitchen door. In and out, plates of food being served to tables that had come in long after we had. We watched as tables turned over two and three times. Again we flagged down our waiter to find out what happened to our food. Again he assured us it was being prepared as we spoke. More time passed. It had been nearly two hours since we had been seated at the table, so I put on my best displeased face and went up to the kitchen.

"Where is our food? It's tacos for krissakes. Tacos take five minutes."

"I'm so sorry. Your food is almost ready. We're making it from scratch."

I looked at the man in disbelief.

"How else would you make it. It's tacos."

At that point we decided it was time to leave. As Dennis and I got up and started for the door, the waiter came rushing from the kitchen with our food. I would have kept on going, but we were hungry. So over two hours after we had sat down, we were finally served our food. Dennis seemed to like his fajitas. I found the flavor of the tacos I ordered to be a bit funky. Who knows. Maybe I had crossed that line. You know, the line where you irritate the help so much that they might spit in your food.