#yestergram while waiting for @alroho in the @pcs_armory. (at Portland Center Stage)
I’m sitting in the parking lot of Gorditos in Greenwood frantically tapping, swiping, and pinching the screen of my phone; flipping between the menu, the map, and the phone number for Tiko Riko. No one answered my first call and I’m starting to sweat. The 13th taco on our Night of 13 Tacos is already wildly on the air and if I can’t get something from Tiko Riko that puts tacos #12 and #13 at the hands of fate. Too much uncertainty on a night like tonight.
Jon, Molly, and I, on a whim of hunger and a taste for adventure, have decided to try and eat 13 tacos from 13 different places in one night.
With many of our restaurant selections close after a decent dinner hour, we’ve split up with two or three places each and are ordering carry out. Once all the tacos are acquired will head back to home base and begin consumption.
I head into Gorditos. The line is long and the family at the front is being unbearably slow, perusing the menu with the cashier. I step out to call Tiko Riko again. Again, no answer. When I step back inside some guy has taken my place in line. I wince, my eyes burning a hole in my bag of tacos, a receipt with my name scrawled in thick marker gingerly placed on top. Something is wrong with his order and, though I can’t overhear anything, the amount of staff working through this problem is too many for the kind of time constraints I’m dealing with. My eyes wander the room and I see a cute girl at the salsa bar ladling herself small cups of various colors. No. No, Nick. Focus. Tonight is about one thing: tacos. Especially the 13th one. Whatever that may be.
Finally progress (or a significant impasse) with our “friend” at the counter. The cashier waves me forward and our transaction is lightning.
I’m racing down Greenwood to Tiko Riko. Glancing at the clock I see it’s still fifteen minutes before they close. Maybe they’ll still let me order. The crazy-eyed bird on the sign stares at me silent, cold eyes and that’s when I see it. The Closed Sign in the window. NoooooOOOOOooooo! I consider it only a moment and walk through the doors and straight up to the counter, pretending not to see the any of the three closed signs on my way.
"Sorry, man. We’re closed"
“Oh no. You are?”
“Can you do anything? Pupusas? Anything?”
“I can do tamales.”
“Perfect. Three tamales, please.”
With their specialty being pupusas, Tiko Riko was going to be a wild card anyway. This taco is secure.
"I’m going to step outside to make a phone call."
I bring up Burrito Loco on my phone and tap the menu link.