It was a cold night in Los Angeles, I stood waiting at the arrivals gate deep in the heart of LAX. It was almost midnight. The arrivals gate at an airport is a funny place that can be absolutely empty for hours, just you and in the corner a security guard almost nodding off to the rhythmic thump-thumping of the cars hitting a pot-hole just outside the sliding doors. And suddenly, a wall of people come pouring in, still half-asleep up from their flight almost oblivious to you patiently searching for one head in the crowd, bumping shoulders bouncing between you and anybody else who stands in their way, like a pinball machine, and you even brace for the collision, reaffirming the pinball look by bouncing them back in the opposite direction. This time it wasn't me alone, I brought along two of my siblings and a friend. My kid brother was flying in from Houston after a strange two and a half year absence, he calls it a move, but I somehow felt it was a temporary event in his life, like several others in his past. This time he was coming home to stay, and either escape the clutches of a bad relationship or maybe just get some space between him and his girlfriend of nearly ten years.
It was a warm welcoming, we were happy to see him and hugs went all around. Kid Brother wanted to see his new nice who is already 1 months whom he had only seen twice at this point. I wanted to get home to my wife and baby, but the brothers had a different plan, we needed some real authentic Los Angeles Mexican food. The Older Brother has become a frequenter of Tacos Sinaloa and demanded we all eat there, immediately. Since he was driving I really couldn't argue with him. I put up a small fight but cabeza tacos really sounded good. Older Brother had discovered the place one night after a Classical Underground show at a nearby art studio. Classical Underground is a small private event that takes place once a month in the home of an exuberant, boisterous Russian painter who has a passion for classical music. Typically a patron will enjoy the music and top-off with a little too much french wine or craft beer and head over to Tacos Sinaloa afterwards. Unfortunately Older Brother couldn't remember how to get there without the help of live classical music, art, and a fine french champagne. So of course we needed to pick-up the Russian artist to help get us there.
It has become late in the evening and somehow a short visit turned into a debate about Russian politics, Peace prizes, and the cost of security for the president at overseas events while enjoying some fine tea spiked with Rum. I am still wondering if Dmitry Medvedev is the best or worst thing to happen to Russia since the collapse of the Soviets. Now early into the morning hours we finally set-off to Tacos Sinaloa where we enjoyed delicious Tongue & Cheek tacos at a very reasonable price while listening to Ramone Ayala on the juke box. read more