It was Saturday afternoon in San Francisco’s Mission District and my little family was right smack dab in the middle of La Taqueria ordering up a trio of carnitas, carne asada and pollo tacos along with a couple of ice cold Coca-Colas.
In walks a cool dude carrying his bongo drum. Then, a nattily dressed businessman on what looked like his way home from some weekend power meetings – poor soul. A group of teenage girls in line looked up from their texting just long enough to place their orders, as singles, couples and families milled in and around the taco joint as if there was no better place to be in the world that day.
I think that very well may have been the case.
Here in this little corner of the universe was at least a half dozen or more ethnicities along with what appeared to be people who had done well and those who were just, well…done. One and all – just being and eating and enjoying great tacos, a great afternoon and a great moment in time.
Ah, the beauty of the California taco joint! It’s probably the thing I miss most living here in New Orleans…and definitely no cabeza tacos or carnitas round’ here. 🙁