One of our least favorite things about the restaurant industry, even after we’ve largely left it, is the prevalence of shoddy journalism. Beyond the dime-store food critics that thrive on creating drama without checking facts, possibly the most offensive articles, are the lists of drinks (imaginary) bartenders hate, or 10 drinks not to order, or any permutation of this lowest form of jaundiced journalism. Since the internet and various outlets can’t seem to get their shit together and offer something more than clickbait that diminishes and disrespects an entire industry, here’s a real article, from a real bartender.
The old man sneered disapprovingly. He spit the words, “This is ridiculous,” at me, kneeling on the floor, then claimed his boarding pass and stalked off. I’m a good packer. I’ve taken a nine-week road trip with just a large duffel bag. Gone away for long weekends armed with only what fit into my purse. So you can imagine my mortification as I desperately attempted to lose 12 pounds in the middle of the San Diego airport.
The biggest market in town is just down the street, and while it took some time, we’ve got a decent handle on which are our favorite stalls and who doesn’t rip off the gringos. We still stick out like sore thumbs because we’re 4 inches above the average height, but we’re getting better at being confident and nondescript. All the same, we do get rolled from time to time. A dollar for 3 pears? Fuck you, Abuelita, I don’t give a shit if yours are the best in the market.