Chimichangas Galore

Tonight was quite the night. I never thought I would ever see so much beans and cheese within a short three hours. (I feel bloated just thinking about it).

I'll admit; my feet do ache a bit. Yet there was no plate breakage, no drink spillage, no bumbling and/or awkward order taking. I polished cutlery, set tables, bussed tables, took orders, delivered orders, and smiled/giggled when people asked if I was actually an American (I'm just so authentic Tex Mex, what can I say?).

The boys in the kitchen think my name is "Colin," which I suppose makes sense as most Brits/Aussies just drop that very necessary "r" consonant. So Carlyn does somehow evolve into "Colin." Which is why, I suppose, I've been officially nicknamed "Colin Farrell." Oh joy. "Colin Farrell, take these to table 25!" "Colin Farrell, why are you so tall?" "Colin Farrell, that cutlery isn't shiny enough!"

Granted, if that's all I have to endure over the next 3 months, I'll gladly grin and bear it.

But the people are nice, the food is great, and the atmosphere quite pleasant (although the restaurant itself could use some good ol' air-conditioning). Viva la comida mexicana!