I have no idea how the idea got into my head, but I'm totally jonesing for a fish taco from Cabo's right now.GONZO: As your attorney, I advise you to tell me where you put the goddamn mescaline.
DUKE: Maybe we should take it easy tonight.
GONZO: Right. Let's find a good seafood restaurant and eat somered salmonfish tacos.
I feel a powerful lust forred salmonfish tacos...
Cabo's is this tiny dive bar hiding in the back corner of a run-down strip mall off Apalachee Parkway in Talahassee. My sister Ebony worked there for a spell, but I actually got hooked on their food back in the days when I worked for big blue. The guys in the office liked to have their ten-martini lunches out there -- which wasn't much fun to be around, but was a great way to score a free meal.
A Cabo's fish taco is this thing that starts out with the physiology of a normal taco, but then gets mutated into something much bigger and more sinister. They'd bring it to you on a plate and you'd see the fish, the spices, and the salsa -- but the tortilla was nowhere to be found (or at least, not until you'd eaten everything it was buried under). I think they simmered crack cocaine into the sauce somewhere, because once you ordered it you never wanted anything else on the menu ever again.
And here I am, 300 miles and an already-spent paycheck away from tasting one and I can't get the thought out of my head.
Where does that come from?
And why am I thinking about it now?
I don't know, I kinda feel like Freud in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," explaining the significance of the corndog that he bought in the foodcourt of the San Diemas mall. I mean, there doesn't always have to be a deeper meaning to things... Maybe I'm thinking about fish tacos from Cabo's because they used to taste so good. Or maybe it's 10 'til 1 on a Friday afternoon and I'm just really fucking hungry, you know?
But I can't help but wonder about it. These long-ago memories, these tiny snippets; all viewed through a patched together television frame from Beyond Thunderdome. How do they find their way back to the surface? Why does my mouth water for a past so far gone?
The connections I hold with Tallahassee and my years there are different. They're not places, meals, or events... my memories of Tallahassee are people. The Andys and the Justins. The Cearas and the "Priscillas." My naked neighbor and the crew at Ruby's. The Tribes, the Arms, and Rick. And Rick,
...and Rick.
Tallahassee is where I first met Kim. Tallahassee was where we stayed up late to watch monstervision. Tallahassee was where we would grocery shop at three in the morning. Tallahassee was where we danced to P-Funk all night long. Tallahassee was where we used to be when it was halftime at the FSU games. Tallahassee is where we fell in love.
...God, What I wouldn't do for a fish taco right now.
[Listening to: Deadsy, "She Likes Big Words" ]
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