Like much in life.
Habit educes comfort.

An unnatural order.

Regardless of time.
Irrespective of schedule.

Whether it’s a week or one day.
If and when I find myself in or about Kansas City.

Abuelo’s at Barry Rd is my blanket.
Exit aircraft, locate luggage, rental, Abuelo’s.

Last night, instead of doing what it was that I should have been doing, I ate at Abuelo’s.
Just like I always would.

I prefer to eat there alone.
As my reward for such bravery, they seat me in the middle, under a high faux-cathedral-like ceiling.

Anyone can tell you, anyone that knows, the food at Abuelo’s is nothing but perfectly predictable.

Not entirely unpleasant.
The service is swift and cordial.
The exterior of the building coincides just as it should with the places that it isn’t.
Sometimes I have to look twice to ensure I am not erroneously entering Ethan Allen.

This night, last night, I was determined to make the meal.
Different.
Some how, exciting.

What are your specials?* I blurted to no one capable of responding.  I’ll ask the waiter.

* Never order specials at a restaurant.  I never order specials.  This is not even a cleverly concealed attempt to cajole you into consuming their surplus.

Before I could be fully seated I was greeted by Logan.
He startled me some.
I was much hungrier then I had half expected.
He was much quieter.

Diet Coke please.

Moments later a large glass of (diet) Coke was delivered.
On its arm, warmed nacho chips, dark ketchupy salsa.

A few gulps of the drink netted a mostly ice filled glass.
Very cold.
The chips were warm.  The salsa was not terrible.  Nor close to being salty enough.

In an instant the salsa, chips and glass are removed and replaced.
Entirely new.
Completely full.

Unphased.  I placed my order.
The usual.  This expression, so meaningless, was not declared.
Three soft wrap things.  Enchilada the picture declared.
Ground beef, shredded beef and chicken.
The chef will be pleased.

A few more chips.
A small dollop of salsa.
Pronounced saaal saaa.  But more quickly saal saaa.  With an exclamation saal saa!
Slurp.

Once again.
New glass.
New chips.
New salsa.

I was not fulfilling my end of the agreement.

Modifications were made.
The glass and its protruding straw were strategically placed within striking distance of my mouth.
Freeing both hands to attack the chips and salsa.

I would finish it all before Logan returned to refill.
He would be pleased.

Shortly thereafter there was the sound of gurgling cubes.
Victory.
Before I could stand to celebrate.
Fail.
In my fury I had failed to notice that an additional (diet) Coke had been delivered.

There were no additional chips and salsa.
The table was littered with debris and failure.
It was clear to all, there was no need.

The microwaved meat-pockets were delivered with a smile.
They resembled the picture in many ways.
I fought them past the (diet) Coke and chips.

Periodically, as if an act of kindness, an additional (diet) Coke was delivered while the other (nearly full glass) was quietly ushered away.
Compassion, no doubt, for a fellow warrior.

Logan was a good man.
Logan understands that tips are (and always should be) directly proportionate to the potential for fluids consumed and not service.

The walk to the front entrance didn’t feel as long as it might have.
Before exiting I made a long overdue stop at the door cleverly marked “Caballero’s”.

It dawned on me.

Guy Caballero.

I get it.

NOW I get it.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 15th, 2009 at 08:11 and is filed under General Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.