Sunday, June 01, 2008

dear mexican restaurant next door ...

i'm sure you have lovely guacamole. i'm sure your wait staff are pleasant and efficient. i'm sure you serve smashing mojitos. i've often thought of bellying up to the bar for a few shots of tequila in those moments, like the other day when i finished writing a dissertation chapter draft, when celebration is the order of the day. all in all, you look like a great restaurant. there's been only one thing holding me back from becoming one of your patrons.

the mariachi music.

i'm sure i'd find it atmospheric as i gleefully worked my way through a plate of cheesy nachos. i know the idea behind it is to make the burrito taste more authentic. but i can't stand it.

i can't stand it because i hear it for 10 hours a day, almost every day of the week. you have a few sets of speakers chained to the awning on your back patio that just happen to be right under my living room window, and even on days when it's raining horizontally, and there's nary a hungry soul in sight, i'm slowly lulled into insanity by the sound of the guitarrĂ³n. and at 11 o'clock, as your staff are closing, upending the green plastic patio chairs on to the green plastic tables, you turn up the volume and in a blind rage, i imagine waiters in silver-studded charro outfits wearing very, very broad-brimmed hats with tassels waltzing, busby berkeley style, with mops and brooms.

but enough of that. i'd really like us to be good neighbours. i'm here for the summer, and i think we can both enjoy the season and still remain respectful of the other person's likes and dislikes.

i hope you think so too, because i've got your precious little chihuahua and unless there's some peace and quiet tonight, his days are numbered.

2 Comments:

Blogger Bardiac said...

Hey! Welcome back!

2:44 a.m.  
Blogger moxywoman said...

Why am I all of a sudden imagining you, dirty and disheveled with a crazy glint in your eye and a dog in your arms, sitting at the bottom of a well?

11:00 a.m.  

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