Back To The Falls

 So we have an open air mall nearby that we used to frequent. Hell, it opened when I was in college, and it was a hangout then. There was a UA theater, and since Barry's weekend job was at the UA theater in Davie, we'd get in for free movies. They had a great Mexican place, El Torito's, which is Spanish for The Toritos, and we'd frequent their happy hour. Mike in particular loved their margaritas. Back then I was more of a Kahlua and cream guy, embarrasingly.

The place was destroyed in Andrew, but rebuilt,and our frequent date night -- dinner, maybe at TGI Fridays, or Los Ranchos, and then a movie. It was a major teen hangout for the Ds -- they'd shop and see a movie, or use a drop off at the Falls as a pretext to then be taken to some questionable house party. We've been learning these truths years later. And now D1 has a boy who will likely pull the same stunts with her. The circle of teens...

Anyway, we don't go there much anymore, except for a place called Bulla, which is actually on the curtilage. Ha. That's a word I haven't used since 1L year. But they built Bulla attached to a parking garage, and they have fine tapas.

But last night, sort of last minute, we invited our neighbor and friend Gloria to dinner. She lost Ben 2.5 years ago -- he was a health nut who had a sudden heart attack while running in our 'hood. I walk.

Another neighbor, Denie, had told me that Friday she and her husband had a good meal at a new place that opened where TGI Friday's used to be,  and so we decided to give it a try. We drove over, and all three agreed we almost never visited the Falls -- for no particular reason. Wifey and Gloria noted all the new stores, and the demolished Bloomingdales. I was thinking about all the JAP jokes that involve Bloomingdales, but kept them to myself. Gloria is Italian.

We got to the place, whose name doesn't stick, but has "Food" in it, and there was a sign -- saying opening Monday. Gloria, the smartest girl in the room, usually, and I, not the smartest boy, surmised that there had been a soft opening which Denie attended. So we decided to walk to Los Ranchos, a Nicaraguan steak place, and try our luck there.

It had changed since our last visit. It had gone downscale -- paper on the tables, and most of the tables not cleared off. But the hostess brought us to a corner table, and we sat, even though Wifey trying to say "three" fell upon Spanish only ears. She held up 3 fingers.

I sat under a blinking light. The waiter came over, and couldn't understand Wifey's request for "water with lemon." When he realized we only spoke English, he kind of annoyedly took out a pen and motioned me to circle what we wanted to order. And he flounced away. But wait, I thought -- what if we had to describe how we wished our churassco cooked? And then I looked at all the dirty tables. And I invoked Dad's Rule.

Dad's Rule is that if your initial greeting or experience at a restaurant is poor -- get up and leave. Things only get worse. Gloria was aboard -- Wifey -- who is slightly allergic to having to walk elsewhere -- protested. We outvoted her, and walked out -- both Gloria and I got bad vibes.

We walked around to Bulla's and had a very nice meal. Wifey was starving and ordered paella while Gloria and I were still reading the menu. The waitress told Gloria the fish special was cod, which Gloria usually doesn't like, but the young lady offered a deal: try it, and we'll take it back if you don't approve. Gloria pronounced it delicious.

We talked of our grown kids -- Gloria has two accomplished sons, and one son in law -- and our wonderful neighborhood. Gloria is like me -- wants to die here. Wifey would like to die elsewhere. But she is roughing it and staying.

One of the folks who moved in the late 60s is putting her house on the market. Ellyn serves on the HOA with us -- she's taking advantage of the absurd prices of late, and moving to an apartment on Brickell. She summers in Maine, and was getting tired of a big house as a 70 something year old single woman. Wow -- over 50 years in our 'hood.

Ellyn is born and raised in Queens, and when we hosted the HOA Exec meeting, her and Wifey's Bridge and Tunnel accents were out in force. Gloria is from The Bronx, but lost her accent, and the other two members there were from Michigan and a Miami native -- so they got a kick out of hearing the B and T banter.

We wish Ellyn well.

For us, it was a lovely Sunday night -- and happily home early. For a change, no TV -- I played DJ on the Sonos, and finally got Wifey to listen to the lyrics of Dylan's pretty new "Key West" song. She loved them.

I gave her my little music lectures, about local guys like Fred Neill, who wrote "Everybody's Talkin At Me." It was a nice nightcap.

And Wifey was inspired. When we woke up today, she was not only singing "Monday Monday," she was reading me song facts about the song -- the first #1 single for the Mamas and Papas.

How about that?!