This set of zingers really requires a bit of background. My brother and I were just in San Francisco doing the tourist thing. Friday was super fun and productive. Saturday was definitely less so. The day started with Barcelona losing the Clasico, which means I was immediately put into an irreversible funk. We spent the day in the Mission district, and finished the evening by walking through the Castro to get to a Cuban restaurant for dinner. This was a decent walk, and it ended with a trek up a decently steep hill. Good Cuban food would compensate for all of this, but unfortunately, we did not find good Cuban food. So of course, zingers galore!
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Chris (on what he plans to say to the server about our flavorless black beans): We know you have two pots back there, one for the Cuban people, one for the white people. You gave us the wrong one.
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Chris (in response to my comment that the spices are hard to get right): Tina. Goya. If you're not familiar with the language, it's spelled like it sounds.
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Chris: This is worse than Taco Bell. At least at Taco Bell you know what you're getting into.
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Chris: I need to call Mom. This is like my Barcelona. I need someone to walk me through this. Like a sponsor. 'I don't know what I'm going to do next. You have to come and rescue me.'
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Tina: They do have a Cuban flag in the back.
Chris: There's a 50/50 chance that it was the Puerto Rican flag. 'Guys, it's red, white and blue, and there's a triangle. Go get it.'
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Chris (pretending to speak to the waiter): Are your mom and dad Cuban?
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Chris: You want to know the worst thing?--not the worst thing, but the next in line of crappy things--is that I'm stuck here drinking crappy Sangria trying to get over this. I walked up a mountain, through the valley of death, just to get struck down. It's like the Odessey if it had ended in tragedy.
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Chris: They probably don't realize that the ripe plantains are the gross-looking ones. (pretending to be the waiter in a grocery store:) 'Ew, gross. But those green ones look pretty. Black beans? There's a can. And done. But wait! Cuban people like Sangria. There's a bottle that says Sangria. Google Cuban music, and we're done.'
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Chris: Tina, look. It's a Buddha head. On a stick. It's our God.
