How I Feel When Another Guest’s Fajita Plate Sizzles Past Me

We lunched at Chuy’s today, where I’ve eaten since about 1983. They’re still using their crappy limited quarantine menu, while every single other restaurant around here has been full menu for months. Still, though, I can’t quit them, as their creamy jalapeno dip runs in my veins. And just as in every trip, someone with far deeper pockets than mine has ordered the fajitas. My head cocks quickly as I smell the meat and hear the sizzle from a black skillet passing our table. The fajitas seem to wink at me, as if to suggest today is my day to give in. I sigh longingly. No, fajitas, not today, my friend. But one day. One day, we will be together.

6 thoughts on “How I Feel When Another Guest’s Fajita Plate Sizzles Past Me”

How was the meat? Chuy. :snorf:

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I am with you with a always-present longing for sizzling fajita meat, Kerbey, to be comingled with those lovingly cooked veggies and carefully concocted salsa.

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