Yelp Fiction: Psychedelic Weekend Binge in Mexico
A few years ago my friend asked me to write a review for the Mexican restaurant he worked at, one that I had never gone to. This is what I ended up writing on Yelp:
A few days ago, I went here. I’m sure of this. You see, it’s the only thing I remember from that weekend.
I remember going to sleep Friday night and being awoken by my alarm clock the next day. I was confused because my alarm isn’t supposed to go off on Saturdays.
I look over at my cell phone and much to my surprise see it’s Monday. What happened to the weekend? I can’t remember any of it. How can I forget a whole weekend?
Somehow I fell asleep in jeans and a jacket, not even untucking my covers. I search my pockets.
I find a few crumpled pieces of paper. One’s dated from Sunday and has an address in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico… How is this possible? My other pocket has my passport. I quickly thumb through it to see the familiar Mexico stamp with a date from Saturday. I’m amazed and dumbfounded.
A memory flashes in my mind of excellent service, fair prices, and fine Mexican food. “Impossible” I stutter, this recollection is of the stylish new Corner Cantina in DTLA, a true Mexican experience without leaving LA.
But how is this the only memory, what kind of escapade happened?! I roll out of bed and find a locked snakeskin briefcase on my floor. It has a sticky note affixed to the combination which reads “Mi amigo, this will open when you open yourself”.
I think hard again. All I can recall is the beauty and elegance of LA’s new go-to spot for lunch and business meetings at Corner Cantina.
I look out my window to see my car, parked on my lawn, covered in dust like it just got back from Burning Man. The windows are cracked open and there is a mestizo boy in rural Mexican clothing asleep in my back seat.
Maybe if I jostle him awake, I imagine, maybe he’d have the answers of what happened in the past few days. As I walk outside, I notice I have unfamiliar shoes on, made of the same snakeskin as the briefcase. They squeak with every step.
The sounds disturb the young boy, who quickly awakens and opens up the back door. I reach towards him yelling “wait, stop” but he dashes out of the car and starts running down the street. He turns around and hollers back “I’ll meet you at Corner Cantina, home cooking with an authentic Mexican flair, señor” and whips around the corner.
I try following him in my snakeskin boots but by the time I turn the corner he vanished.
Honestly, it was hard for me to know if I was going crazy or if crazy was just a place I was going.
I couldn’t decide, but who’d want to go crazy when they could go to a corner cafe with a full bar, complimentary chips and salsa, and a fun lively atmosphere, open until 2am?
I made up my mind. I’d reassemble the weekend, the trip to Mexico, the mestizo boy, the snakeskin briefcase, remember, or perhaps, re-imagine the pieces of my past.
The first step was obvious. I’ll go back to Corner Cantina and enjoy their happy hour special, served daily between 3 and 7 pm, with a wide variety of tasty options, including affordable $8 margaritas.
I’ll get in my car, get off my lawn, and discover my past by living my future.
Yelp link: https://www.yelp.com/biz/corner-cantina-los-angeles-2?hrid=5c5tudTUj3jQbpKVjw8O-w
