note pizza hut in the distance. there was, in the other direction, a mcdonald's and a kfc.
it would be an injustice to the american way to suggest that these places only offer chain restaurants--there was, just next to the hotel, a place called "plaza restaurant", its menu enthusiastically offering up bistro-style platters of home-made dogshit. this brings to mind an axiom of independent american dining: that it is invariably awful, and you're better off ordering a pocketful of blueberry muffins from the nearest starbucks.
it'd also be an injustice to call wilcox, arizona a shit-hole of a town; it's more like a shit-hole of a truck-stop, with a few houses scattered around tentatively around its perimeter. but, truth be told, i'm a big fan of shit-holes, and an overbearingly enthusiastic fan of american ones, specifically. in the spirit of charlie brooker i'd assert that there isn't much to say that's interesting without outrageously prejudiced negativity--just like no-one ever gets the hots for a nice girl.
the best thing that can be said about these places is that they're close to mexico. naturally, mexican food is the chomping man's saving grace: it's healthy (provided you avoid menu items described as "smothered"), it can usually be covered with chilli, and it's cheap as figurative chips. in a place of astonishing barrenness, plates of guacamole, peppers and onions are like edible oases.
the best thing that can be said about these places is that they're close to mexico. naturally, mexican food is the chomping man's saving grace: it's healthy (provided you avoid menu items described as "smothered"), it can usually be covered with chilli, and it's cheap as figurative chips. in a place of astonishing barrenness, plates of guacamole, peppers and onions are like edible oases.
see: salsa fiesta! the cheeky little pepper, its eyes boggling with joy. and the colours! a spa of vim and vigour by another name, surely.
oh, yeah, and the sign cheerfully advertising mexican and chinese food: crassly, craply, cross-continental--but in a place like this not much less than an advertisement for ambitioned ambidexterity.
as if things could possibly get better, this was the salsa bar:
why an entire bar is set aside for self-service salsa is beyond me, particularly as it seems to requires a lakeful of imported ice to keep its imperishable chilli contents perfectly, er, chilled. well, whatever. "howdy" to you too, you spreadeagled, cross-eyed, platypus... chick.
here's a shot of my taco salad. i'd already eaten twice in the day by this point, in mid-afternoon, so i wanted something light, and... you know, based on lettuce.
and there it was. and here it was, ten blearly, unfocused minutes later:
draw your own conclusions, i guess.
