Taco Tyme
The ‘no internet’ saga continued bitterly until today, when I once again got the connection reestablished. I’m not going to go into the details, but the final outcome is that Speakeasy fixed the problems, and credited me for the two weeks without a stable connection. I’m annoyed that it happened, but relieved that its over, and I still like Speakeasy because of how they handled the situation.
I’m eating homemade tacos right now, but the reason I mentioned tacos in the title is because of a strange situation I wanted to alert you to. I think I’ve found a house of ill repute, a brothel, a crack house, or something like that. On Delmar Ave., east of our neighborhood, is a reasonably slummy neighborhood. Along there is a rundown little building with boards over the windows, and a big ‘For Lease’ sign hanging on the door.
That in itself isn’t odd, since property values are pretty low right now in the area. However, the building has a big sign out front identifying it as a “Happy Taco”, the establishment that apparently had the most recent lease on the property. The strange thing is that the sign is still lit up. All day and all night, the lights inside the sign burn bright, letting everyone know that the “Happy Taco” joint is right here. But the building is clearly closed up.
This building has been in this state, lit up sign, “For Lease” sign, boards over the windows, for as long as I’ve lived in St. Louis, close to two years now! If the Happy Taco had just closed up recently, I could understand. Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the sign I thought, but after two years of running, bulbs have to be burning out, and someone comes to replace them. Why else would they maintain this Happy Taco sign even though the building is just sitting there unused?
The answer, my friends, is clear. Something sneaky is going on there. Something underhanded. Something devious. “Happy Taco” is clearly some code word for smack or something, and the lit sign lets everyone know that the facility is open for a certain type of underground business. Instead of cheerful people lining up out front to buy delicious and reasonably priced mexican fast food, dirty people with sunken eyes, pasty skin, and chattering teeth skulk around back to knock the secret knock on the door, and be admitted to the debaucherous house of drugs and sex.
Now, let me be perfectly clear. I haven’t ever actually seen someone skulk in, nor have I ever smelled smoke coming from the building, or seen heaps of soiled prophylactics lying around out front. But still, I’m quite certain something weird is going on in there.
Thursday 24 Apr 2003 | Sam | Personal