The "Ocho" Number Game
Erin April 28th, 2008
Hidden by the neon lights of Azteca on Market and 24th Ave, a faintly stained glass window has four letters etched into a sign. “Ocho” – it reads, denoting the number “8″ with zero known significance to the restaurant it is named for but has a couple other digits that work with it.
7 – Possessive power lesbians clinging to their rights to the side of the bar that uncomfortably angles into the inward-opening door and pound their “$10 Margaritas” that consequently result in their falling off their benches later.
6 – Other seats of the “L”-shaped bar that are occupied by rosemary and beet garnished martini-sippers who are not willing to give up their spot for a cancer patient on crutches. Tough luck.
5 – Remaining tables of the restaurant with no more than 2 chairs at each and 5 people crowding around to stab at one tiny tapas plate for the white-wine soaked clam.
4 – The average priced tapas on the chalk-written menu that hangs on the far wall which you’ll need to order more of to fill you up but will keep you busy licking your fingers in between plates.
3 – Consummate cooks whom fill the kitchen (on a busy night) which can not harbor any more people nor talent.
2 – FOH servers (one cocktailer and one bartender) who make you feel as if you could stay for hours although you know they want their tables to turn so they can possibly get more people in the box they work in.
1 – First-timer (me) who can’t stop obsessing over the sherried-mushroom bruschetta plate (real name to not be attempted by someone who hasn’t spoke Spanish in eight – ocho- years).
0 – People who will be disappointed by Ocho.
Salud,
Erin
You had me at Ocho.