We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
I got barfed on
I live by this simple rule: if a place doesn’t have food, I’m probably not going to show up. Unless I really, really love you. So when Metromix’s photographer-extraordinaire Shane Redsar e-vited me to his birthday party at Akbar, my devotion to him outweighed my need to eat.
The fabulous birthday boy gives an arch look.
While I haven’t seen the inside of many bars or clubs, I have been to Akbar for craft night—which was a lovely experience; I unironically made a picture frame out of macaroni. But on this particular Friday night, the singles crowd was hot and heavy, and believe me, no one was interested in handling a glue gun.
Suffice it to say that at one point in the night, I felt a splash across my legs as I had decided to wear my NSFW miniskirt and boots. No biggie. People slosh their drinks around all the time. You just wipe yourself off and move on, right? This is where the details get sordid. I began to wonder why that dude would have salsa in his glass. Did Akbar start serving Mexican food? I speculated as I swiveled around to flag down a server hoping to get a basket of chips too.
Oh, no…nuh-uh. Yes, my brain made that final unfortunate leap over the pit of denial and I knew—I got barfed on. By someone who had distinctly eaten Mexican food.
As I am nothing if not a committed journalist and researcher, I couldn't help but ponder: What might be the originating source? Possibly Best Fish Taco in Ensenada since it was right up Hillhurst? Nope, I was sure cheese was involved. El Conquistador? Maybe too far down Sunset.
The CSI in me needed to take a more scientific approach. Luckily, Metromix’s snazzy software can map out nearby restaurants within a quarter mile of the crime scene—
—three of which serve the right combination of salsa-laden food and strong drink that might make someone yak it up down the street. Malo, El Cid, El Chavo: I probably won’t be visiting you anytime soon. You wouldn’t want to deal with a bout of post-traumatic stress syndrome.
—Jiyeon Yoo
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