I didn't choose Beggar's Banquet for dinner. And now I have hiccups. I went for irony for dinner. El Azteco is celebrating thirty five years in downtown East Lansing, which means I showed up in year five. El AZ in those days had an underground feeling, and it was not just the basement location with fire safety issues. In those Reagan days, eating downstairs insinuated a political position. The owners frequently raised money against the Sandinistas and every visit reminded one of a teach-in. One could pick up literature or rap about the situation in Nicaragua. Although it is probably untrue, I have told the waitress that one meal underground at El Azteco and the CIA opened a file and chances of a military commission evaporated. Definately agents dropped by to grab lit for the files, but saying the CIA always had agents at tables is a shameful exaggeration. But it made them laugh readily. Not one of them votes conservative, probably showing some sorting in the application pool and selection process. One tells me of her mom, who ate here in the Eighties. I've imitated Darth Vader and revealed: "Ash, I am your father". It went over big, but I will have to tip well.
Here's a huge irony. How did the prices rise so high? The Old El Azteco had soup kitchen prices and since students did not get Bridge Cards or food stamps in those days, I ate often downstairs without feeling a pinch, and I made my money waiting tables at Pizza Hut. Thirty dollars in tips meant a big night. The price for all items stands at nine dollars; I've seen 7.50 at Taquerias. How did a Topopo Salad inch up to 14.50? The waitress answered, "avocados are 85 dollars the box. It's temporary". Here's one more irony. I'm eating on a clean picnic table on a breezy, shady roof top deck, the opposite of a basement. So why the hiccups? The hot sauce is still fierce, and one bit made my lungs jump. I am not complaining. The hot sauce has always covered up an array of health department concerns at El Azteco.
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