slightly less than happy hour

Lately I've been thinking about what compels us to make the best of bad situations.

Occasionally on Tuesdays, I'll head westward and meet up with my surrounding cast of characters for a little dollar taco action. It so happens they live across the street from an El Torito. Not just any El Torito though; it might actually be a faux-mexican portal to hell. I'm pretty sure the penal system has a higher standard for customer service. The servers ignore you, the food takes forever, and actually prying the bill from their hands could be a competitive event. It's a big joke of an experience wrapped up in a lukewarm tortilla.

And yet, we go back.

I know....it doesn't make any sense. This is California, meaning Mexican restaurants are on every corner, within a stones throw of a pot dispensary and an In-n-Out. But we all have similar situations in life. You know something is bad, or at the very least not good, and still you rationalize sticking with it. Well, it's cheap. It's close. It's easier than cooking.

He didn't really mean it.
I don't know any different.
It could be worse.

Same stale chips, same stale results.

Where does toughing it out end, and being scared to change begin? It's such a bitch of a conundrum. Like with the food situation. It is true that it's cheap, and walking distance is crucial since a DUI is decidedly bush league. But do those factors outweigh the shit-tastic experience we're then certain to have?

I only bring it up because choices much larger than"blended or on the rocks?" are on the horizon. Nothing to freak out about yet. I'm staying calm and remaining seated at this point. But as February marches on it's becoming apparent that this larger question of comfort versus complacency will be taking center stage.

Not a bad thing, just the way it is. Can't have your flan and eat it too.


1 comment:

  1. seriously, the anger i feel just from READING about those people makes me want to punch a baby. ole.