If either my friend Devon
or I are ever having a bad day, we almost always go to Victor’s. And not necessarily for the food.
Sure, it’s decent as far as Mexican joints go, but we go there because you leave the place feeling like a million bucks. The minute you walk in the door, the friendly lady running the place yells out “HOLA GUAPAS!!” (For those of you who didn’t make it through first year Spanish, guapa means “good looking.”)
Sure, it’s decent as far as Mexican joints go, but we go there because you leave the place feeling like a million bucks. The minute you walk in the door, the friendly lady running the place yells out “HOLA GUAPAS!!” (For those of you who didn’t make it through first year Spanish, guapa means “good looking.”)
I suppose we shouldn’t feel that special, as *everyone* is
guapa or guapo at Victor’s. But she says it with such enthusiasm, you can’t
help but smile. It instantly puts me in a good mood.





