One thing Dan and I have never quite figured out is what to do in Los Angeles on a weekend after eight (when Dan normally gets off work) that doesn't involve eating, watching a movie, or the paparazzi, because you know they are always hounding us. We can find plenty of things to do all day Saturday, but Friday and Saturday evening are usually spent huddled around our computer, watching a movie. (Have I mentioned how convenient it is not to own a TV?)
So last Friday, we decided to resist becoming creatures of habit and go out to eat at a restaurant we frequently drive by called El Cholo Cafe. I did a little research and decided it was probably in our price range and their website advertises that Jack Nicholson frequently eats at the downtown restaurant, and since I've always thought of Jack Nicholson as a great connoisseur of food, I figured it must be a pretty good restaurant. In fact, in the lobby of our neighborhood El Cholo Cafe they have an autographed picture of Jack Nicholson.
As we turn into the parking lot, Dan and I see three things: a group of mariachis, valets, and no where to self-park, which means that we both freak out. I start digging through my purse to see if I have any cash, and Dan asks me what he should do. For a split second I think about telling the valets that we are just looking for a place to turn around and that we never intended to eat at El Cholo. Just in time I find five dollars in my wallet, so we decide to brave the valet experience. I'm sure we could have asked the server to give us some cash, but I don't always think rationally. Los Angeles constantly forces me to come to grips with the fact that I am not really a city girl.
As it turns out, I'm glad we decided to press forward even though we were temporarily unnerved by the prospect of valet parking. The food was quite good. For one of their appetizers you can get fresh-made guacamole, which means that women walk around with trays of guacamole fixins, and if you want, will mix some up for you right at your table. For those who like to make their own guacamole, it's a fun way to see what they put into their guacamole and it's quite tasty. But they also don't list the price of the guacamole on the menu and instead put something like "as quoted," meaning that they can charge you ten bucks for a large dish of guacamole that two naive suckers like Dan and I can never possibly eat on our own. We console ourselves with the thought that at least we got to watch them make it.
And I'd just like to think that the next time we run into valet parking, we'll be just a bit calmer now that we've been officially initiated.
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