Meat, Cowboy Boots, and Hoochie Shorts

When I was a young boy, probably 10, I impressed the chef at Tadich Grill in San Francisco by downing a 20 ounce porterhouse steak all by myself. I know this because he actually came to our table and congratulated me on my eating prowess. Although over 20 years have passed since that memorable experience, I continue to have an ongoing love affair with all things beef. Despite already making a stop on the DDD tour earlier that morning, tonight was our chance to hit the Monte Carlo Liquor and Steakhouse; thusly named due to the liquor store some patrons walk through before entering the restaurant. You actually don't have to walk through the liquor store as there is an entrance in the back, but the experience is unique and fun nonetheless. The Monte Carlo is your typical old school steakhouse. Every town in the country has one of these dark and dingy places filled with red vinyl booths. Think The Buggy Whip in Westchester, or Steak n' Stein in Pico Rivera. However, what sets the Monte Carlo apart, other than the liquor store and the now all too familiar Guy Fieri picture, is the hodgepodge of Greek and Americano themed decorations plastered all over every square inch of available wall space. From a brass plate of the Parthenon, to James Dean, back to Greek Orthodox pictures of the Virgin Mary, and finally back to Elvis. The centerpiece of the entire decor is a gigantic picture of the original, now deceased, owner who looks so Greek that I swore he was going to spray Windex on me.

This was the first place on the DDD tour that was actually busy. We arrived fairly early for dinner and had to wait about 15 minutes, but as we left there were at least 20 people outside and 20 more inside waiting for a table. We were lucky enough to be seated directly underneath the family patriarch, so other than my paranoid feeling of being squirted with WIndex I felt a little special. I of course, ordered the porterhouse, which has been a must for me at every steakhouse since that day in San Francisco. Susan ordered 14 ounces of Greek marinated pork on a kabob, or as the Greeks call it, souvlaki. The kids had steak fingers, which are deep fried strips of breaded steak. I hope they one day realize what a wonderful father I was by allowing them to eat steak, breaded and deep fried in oil. Susan thought her pork was a bit dry, which was true, but it was full of flavor. My steak could've been compared to any high end steak house I have ever been to, which would've undoubtedly charged me twice what I paid at Monte Carlo's. For the value and experience I recommend this place. Stick to the steak and you can't go wrong.

The following day, we had plans to go back to Sophia's to experience heavenly Mexican food. Unfortunately, we had to scrap those plans and go to the local Waffle House instead (more on this in a bit). Very much like my plans to leave the house during a vacation, I know I must do the same thing when preparing to go to a special event. Therefore I asked Susan how much time she needed to get ready to go to the Quiceanera- 3 HOURS! She will tell you that she has to get both kids ready and herself, which is true, but I did give Liam a bath, and she did Naibe's hair before we left for breakfast so I have to believe that most of these 180 minutes is dedicated to making herself beautiful. Now as her husband, Susan is always beautiful to me, so I naturally assume that three hours is quite a long time to prepare yourself for anything. I don't think I could fill up three hours preparing to climb Everest, let alone get dressed.



So the decision was made to go to the nearby Waffle House instead of the 15 minute drive across town to Sophia's. I have of course heard of the Waffle House before, but being from LA I have never been to one. This turned out to be an experience in it itself. Living directly behind a Norm's in LA I have come to expect massive crowds waiting for mediocre food on a Saturday and Sunday morning, yet this place wasn't too crowded at all. I'm not sure whether this was due to the fact it is near the airport, the struggling New Mexican economy, or the food. After eating there I can safely say it isn't due to the food. I don't think I have ever been to a restaurant in which grits come with every single meal. The waitresses call out the order rather than give the cooks a ticket. Eating there was just like being in an old episode of Alice.

After waiting the pre-arranged 3 hours, we left for the church, the Quinceanera, the actual reason for going on this road trip. Now I know that much of what I am about to say about the entire event may seem like I am making fun of or criticizing this rite of passage, but I really mean no disrespect. I know that in just 5 short years I will have to go through this with Naibe, and what I witnessed scared me more than anything. I now know that Susan and I will have to spend several years of income on a ginormous party that includes every aspect of a wedding other than a groom. Maybe if we find a groom by then we can kill two birds with one stone.

Without a doubt, Saturday was the hottest day of the trip so far. Being the dutiful husband that I am I was wearing a suit, not the light tan colored suit I use during the summer, but the black one I wore for my wedding. The tan suit, besides sporting a small hole in the pants, is beginning to get a little snug around the torso. Susan did buy me a gym membership for Valentine's Day this year (muy romantico), but it's hard going everyday when you've been a lazy ass your whole life. So I was sweating in my black wool suit in 100 plus degrees noticing that everybody filing in was dressed quite casually. I attempted not to grind my teeth as I noticed jeans and shorts seemed to be the dress of choice for most of the spectators. Now, not only was I one of the only non-Latinos in the whole place, but I was the only person in a suit. I literally stuck out like a white guy at a Quinceanera; perhaps this was unavoidable.

The ceremony itself was pretty standard- for a groomless wedding. The teen of the hour was dressed like Madonna at the 1985 MTV Music Awards. There had to be a point sometime in Quinceanera history in which some person decided that 15 year old girls should wear the puffiest wedding dresses they could possibly find. I think the Rock could have done his finishing move on her and she wouldn't have fallen to the ground due to the massive amounts of puffiness from her dress. Despite my joking, Brianna, did look beautiful. The amount of bling she was wearing complimented her mouth full of braces; it was cute and she was having the time of her life. The highlight of the ceremony for me was the Ross impersonator rockin' the Casio and singing the religious Quinceanera songs set to 1980's Journey beats. His mullet more than made up for the pain I was feeling as I was slowly melting away inside Italian wool.



After the ceremony, everybody made the 20 mile journey to the Route 66 Casino outside of Albuquerque where the reception was to take place. As I walked through the doorway to the banquet hall I suddenly saw the world like a giant Richard Scary book. You know those children's books with the cat and the worm with the little German hat where all the pictures have labels above every object. Yet, in my vision, the labels became price tags: $1000.00 bucks for the live conjunto band (that's the sardine dance inducing type of band I spoke of in the last blog), $800.00 bucks for 3 hours mariachi, $400 bucks for the DJ, $1000 bucks for flowers and decor, $500 bucks for lighting, $10,000 bucks for hall rental and food for 200 guests. If the computer shorts out while I'm typing this it is from the tears I am shedding for fear that this will be coming true for me sooner that I think. I really have to admire Susan's cousin who made this happen for her daughter without help from a father. Although I know her family helped out a great deal, I'm sure she did much of the leg work in making this event happen and I hope her daughter never forgets it.

For those of you who have never had the experience in attending a large Mexican party with a live conjunto, it is quite an experience for the casual gringo. However, this was the first time I have experienced this type of party outside of California. Being a high school teacher I am able to follow trends as they come and go, but trends are clearly regional. In Albuquerque, the cool kids apparently like to wear Hollister shirts (California company by the way), white cowboy hats with the brims bent all the way up (like those gigantic foam ones you used to be able to win at Magic Mountain), and cowboy boots with the toes so pointy they look more like Legolas from Lord of the Rings. Initially, my regional bias kicks in and I want to make fun of them, but then I start to think about the kids in Watts wearing white t-shirts 10 sizes too big for them and baggy pants sagging below their cheeks and realize that there is no difference. For the girls, hoochie shorts are clearly the fashion choice of the day. These girls, I assume most under 18, were beyond club gear, this was street walking wear. And to think, just several hours before we were all in a church, blessing a young girl's passage into womanhood. If your shorts and your chonies are the same size then something has to change. My only hope is that five years from now, the fashion trend for girls will be large unflattering jumpsuits. I suppose I'm just getting old.



We sat at a table with several of Susan's cousins and their husbands. They were all extremely nice and kept buying me beers all night. I felt bad for not buying more myself, but every time I turned around there was another one ready for me to drink. The food wasn't anything to write home about, so I won't. Those of us at the table belonged to the generations of thirty somethings in between the younger and older generations at the party. We don't feel old, we still have the urge to party, but our kids are running around like monkeys, we feel the need to talk about our jobs, and in one case, reading a Southern Living magazine. Susan wanted to stay until the end, but in the end wasn't able to. She had a horrible headache, which is something I hear often, but this time really believed her. I might have just earned myself a bunch more headaches on that one.



The Quinceanera was a large and successful party. Brianna had a huge smile the entire day that never faded, and that is what matters. Tomorrow we will go to Susan's cousin's house for Menudo. The long drive home is approaching like the nightmare that it is. I am looking forward to getting home, just not looking forward to the drive.