Volume 3, Issue 26
December 20, 2001 - January 10, 2002
Adventures in Dining!
by Bobby Black
1456 Champa, Denver
720-932-6666
6 am - 2 pm everyday
This fine holiday season was accompanied by yet another special assignment from my editor. Find a few places you know about that people can go for Christmas dinner. It sounded simple enough so I wasn't in any hurry. That was where the "Nightmare Before Christmas" started.
I started going down the list of places I've reviewed over the last two years. There were so many great stories and so many great places.... like the time at Sports Field Roxx when I asked a lady sitting next to me, who was eating steak and shrimp if she would pass the Grey Poupon. As she reached for it, I palmed a shrimp off of her plate and backhanded it toward Jeff. He wasn't paying attention and in classic Dorito-commercial style, it bounced off his forehead and landed on someone else's plate who then ate it!
Or the time at Cooperstown, when I thought I was a sports fan, and woke up the next morning with my shirt missing and some team logo painted on my chest... and I was wearing one of those beverage helmets and a huge foam-rubber Number One glove thing.
Remember when my editor had me committed to the squirrel farm where my group consisted of a pyro, a liar, and some white guy named Viv who thought he was a Vietnamese prostitute? We all went to the Golden Corral for an outing where I snuck a book of matches off to the pyro who immediately set bathroom on fire. Then I called the waiter over and got him to ask the liar about the time he was an astronaut. While he had the waiter pinned in the corner recounting tales of outer space travel, I convinced Viv that these four guys at another table were G.I.'s on leave. He headed over to their table getting louder as he went with the whole "me so horny, me love you long time" bit. Once the rest of the fruit loops at our table began bleating and throwing things I made my escape in the pandemonium.
Then there was the time I went to a bunch of places and ended up in a food coma because my old editor wouldn't take the reviews I had done. I still remember that Technicolor caricature of my editor grinning at me as he morphed into some sort of demonic weasel creature and cackled wildly, somewhere in the background a midget dressed like a hamburger was spraying Cheese Wiz at an obese naked woman. Everything took on a white zombie music video vibe. I spun around to see the demonic weasel thing dancing around and chanting something almost audible. As I listened I started making out its words. It was saying "OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOOO!" It was saying, over and over: "We already did a story on that one, tee hee hee.... We already did a story on that one, tee hee hee!" Then I began to fall, spinning into a deep cavern made of food, falling faster and faster, deeper and deeper, screaming, "I CAN'T EAT ANY MORE!" at the top of my lungs. The laughing got louder and louder, the cavern got deeper and deeper, the falling got faster and faster. Oh man that was a bad trip!
How about that time I went to Brothers BBQ and ended up running down the street with a gaseous fireball chasing me at waist height? I still have scars on my butt from when that thing caught up with me! Then there was the morning after the Blue Ox and Red Bull binge where Dusty was just sitting in the corner with a maniacal grin on his face caught in the punch line of some joke he was too wired to tell. Scotty's head had been exuding so much heat that all the pomade in his hair had melted and ran down the back of his neck leaving him with an even more intense "Who crapped in my Cheerios?" scowl than usual. Not to mention second-degree burns on his lower back where the heated hair grease pooled. And I had gotten to the point that I would either burst out in laughing fits for no apparent reason or start ranting about something no one but me could understand. Then Scotty and I ended up at Johnny's Diner where he fell asleep in his car.
The stories go on forever, but the problem was that every place I called was going to be closed or not doing anything special if open. Then finally I found my saving grace, Tarantula Café! You remember, don't ya? The time when amidst the usual flora and fauna of the urban jungle I saw a tiny dark flower growing. There was this small vampiric creature dressed in black from head-to-toe facing a building with her alabaster face turned upward. A slim hand shielded her sunglass-shrouded eyes from the cruel light as she tried to make out the sign before her. I stood motionless watching the breeze tug at the lacy ebony fabric of her dress wondering what could have drawn this rare bird from the velvet darkness of her nest. Then an unusually thick bustle of people grew up around her, swirling like a tide pool, and in an instant she was engulfed.
When the tide ebbed, she was gone. The spot where she had stood a moment ago seemed strangely vacant. All I could see was a red neon sign that read "Tarantula Café." You must remember the pool tables everywhere and the awesome Italian deli! Homemade mustard and mayo, imported cheeses, meats and desserts (the best tiramisu in town), espresso -- the whole nine yards. It turns out that the Tarantula is open Christmas Eve with DJ dance party, all the usual great food, and sweet potato pie on the house until 4 am. All ages welcome, so come one, come all. I'll probably be there for at least part of the festivities. I'm sure that no matter what the holidays bring you can squeeze in a little free sweet potato pie. Aside from all the hoopla, one thing I know for sure is that the holidays are always something a little different for everyone. You might find yourself remembering days gone past over a cup of eggnog with friends. Maybe your plans include seeing family and trying to recapture all the lost time that you've been apart. You might even just spend some time at home with your special someone and rekindle the love that gets lost in the day-to-day hustle and bustle. No matter what the holidays mean to you at some point most of us find ourselves overwhelmed by anxiety that is usually brought on by the lack of money or time. That's when it's time to take a deep breath slow down just a little and try to see beyond the end of your own nose for a minute. Instead of getting caught up in what you can't do, try doing what you can. Try dragging something warm out of a closet and giving it to someone who is cold. How about scraping together something to eat and giving it to someone who is hungry? Or muster up a smile for someone who has lost theirs?
Visit Bobby's website: www.noctul.com
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