Hacienda

Mrs. R and I had lunch recently. Well, we have lunch every day, but on this particular day we had lunch together.

We went to a Mexican restaurant along the main drag near where we live. It’s a typical suburban main drag; within about two miles you can find a mall, several national chain stores and restaurants, a couple of car dealerships, and 57 Starbucks.

We went to a place called Hacienda Colorado. It is locally owned and the food, influenced by northern New Mexico, is delicious. You should give it a try sometime.

Hacienda Colorado

If you go, be prepared for some unusual things. All of the servers (black-shirts) and managers (yellow- shirts) wear headsets with microphones, apparently to facilitate quick responses to all of their customers needs.

We arrived at about 12:15p and were promptly seated by a headset wearing hostess. Another person walked by our table, let’s call him Server A, and said he would be “taking care of us.” He turned the ticket over on our table. This is apparently code to tell the other servers that “this table is covered, stay the hell away.”

Server A went out to the patio to help some other diners and Server B immediately approached our table, brought some chips and salsa, turned the ticket over and took our drink orders. I was feeling particularly roguish, so I ordered a diet soda. Mrs. R ordered an iced tea.

Now, since the beginning of recorded history, at least in these parts, iced tea is served with a slice of lemon. Mrs. R’s tea was brought to the table, sans lemon, just as server A passed our table in bewilderment. Not at the missing lemon, but because someone had swiped his table.

During our entire time at the Hacienda, there were two managers that continually circled the dining room, giving instructions via their headsets. The Alpha manager circled in a clockwise fashion, while the #2 circled in a counter-clockwise direction. About every 3 minutes we were asked by one of the yellow-shirts if everything was OK. Not wanting to be impolite, we always stopped eating to respond to their question, always answering in the affirmative. It took us an hour and forty-seven minutes to get through lunch…

Anyway, back to the lemon. Mrs. R flagged down Server B (Mrs. R had to use a flag because the customers don’t get headsets) and requested a lemon slice for her tea. Server B promptly brought a couple of lemon slices in a small bowl and explained that they don’t put them in iced tea anymore because “some people don’t like them, and something happened in Florida.” After much discussion, Mrs. R and I determined that most lemon groves are in California, they had some rough weather, and the price of some citrus fruits had risen. We finally decided that the lack of lemons was a cost savings move by the restaurant to minimize the use of these highly valuable fruits.

A person we’ll call Server C brought our food to the table and we began to eat. The food was delicious. During the course of our lunch we had a good view of the patio an observed a handsome, 20-something young man having lunch with four very attractive 20-something young ladies. These gals were all wearing high heels, tight pants and tight clingy shirts (or so I’m told….). None of them seemed to be attached to the young man, and they all appeared to be vying for his attention. It was good entertainment, and there wasn’t even a cover charge...

I thought maybe it was an episode of The Bachelor and these gals were the four finalists. Mrs. R said she thought the guy probably had two things that I didn’t: money and an alternative lifestyle…

Anyway, about halfway through lunch I was in need of a soda refill. Heck I was goin’ for two, it was Saturday and Mrs. R was the designated driver…

Neither Server A nor Server B was anywhere to be found, but fortunately the Alpha yellow-shirt walked by our table at just the right time, and spoke into his microphone. Suddenly Server B appeared and offered to refill my drink. I don’t know where the hell she came from. She must’ve rappelled down from the ceiling, sort of like those SWAT guys do.

Server B refilled my drink and left. Server A then appeared and said (and this is an exact quote) “Are we tastin’ okay?”

Not wanting to be impolite, and also not wanting to provide an incorrect answer, I leaned over and bit Mrs. R on the shoulder, in attempt to provide a factual basis for my response to his question. Mrs. R cried out and slapped me (rightfully so I might add) and in the process spilled the remaining, high value lemon slices on the floor.

Suddenly there were six, black-shirt clad people with mops and rags and vacuums rappelling from the ceiling. One of them dove headfirst toward the table, trying in vain to save the lemon slices before they hit the floor. The others quickly cleaned up the area. A priest appeared and gave last rights to the unfortunate lemon slices.

We were escorted to the door by two guys named Vinny and Guido, assessed $28 for lunch, $123 for two lemon slices, and asked never to return, at least until the price of citrus fruit drops…