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Saturday, February 18, 2006

They can't all be gems

I returned a short time ago from scouting a promisingly-reviewed Mexican hole-in-the-wall in an obscure industrial neighborhood of Seattle improbably named "South Park" (hard by the equally-improbably-named "Georgetown"). Like about 95% of the restaurants you visit steeped in optimism from a glowing review, this one was a disappointment. Restaurant hunting is a very low-percentage undertaking, and relying on glowing published reviews seems only to lower the percentage (yes, I'm talking to you, Doug Rodriguez and Rocco DiSpirito). Another time I may reveal a few gems I've run across in Seattle, but there aren't that many. Diamonds of the first water are just rare.

But oh, MAN, the Mexican TV at this place tonight was muy, muy, MUY something else. There was some sort of Mexican Jack Hanna with what looked like swarthy makeup and a blonde wig, playing with a tarantula. Then he pretended to be bitten by the tarantula. If you already thought tarantula bites were probably to be avoided, his reaction to the fake bite would remove all doubt. The flailing and screaming went on and on, a stagehand go involved, etc. Cutting-edge stuff. This was followed by a guy in a white t-shirt singing “Feelings” and some other song of like tenor that I’ve repressed, both in English and played completely straight--or as straight as a Mexican guy singing those in English can be. Amazing.


posted at 10:38 PM

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