When you dine at an eatery bearing a name such as Border's Mexican Grill And Cantina your taste buds automatically salivate with the expectation of immediate rejuvenation via zesty salsas and vibrant chili-stuffed foods. Your bowels may anticipate a little of the danger and excitement that comes from taking a gastrointestinal gamble at a borderline Mexican restaurant as your mind reasons that this is America and we have rules about health codes and stuff. No, my friends, you should always obey the promptings of your bowels first. My daughter, Sunbum and I learned our lesson when we visited Border's eateria (rhymes with diarrhea) a few weeks ago.Troubadour Christopher Cross offered wise counsel as he fervently sang out, "Oh they got such a long way to go.....to make it to the border of Mexico." We should have followed his advice and "rode like the wind" out of there. Yeah, what we ate could have qualified as a border specialty, alright-- If we're talking about the border between white-bread Minnesota and Canada, that is.
The burritos we ordered arrived on a lukewarm platter and they were the size of pillows. Unfortunately, they reminded me of pillows found at a cheapie roadside inn-the kind where you toss and turn all night in fitful sleep as memories of that last 20/20 program special revealing the germs, bacteria, and bodily fluids splashed over hotel walls play in your mind. And then somewhere in the middle of the night you suddenly feel itchy all over your face and you shake the limp, nasty pillow and curse at it as you wonder what the freak its stuffed with. Yeah, our burritos were exactly like that. They also lacked any discernible flavor. Just to make the burritos somewhat edible we continuously dumped more and more salsa on them. It did occur to me that this place is called Border's because their food is akin to eating paperback novels over at Border's bookstore. At least books satisfy a hunger for knowledge.
Sunbum and I sipped daintily on our first round of water but when we asked for a refill I swear the non-English speaking busboy must have thought we really wanted him to take our water glasses and fill them up with the nearest water source available whether that be the rancid dishwater in the sink with borracho beans still floating lifeless on the surface or maybe to just top it off from the septic tank line. Whatever option he chose, the water smelled bad and tasted worse.
If you need more testimonial regarding the crappiness of Border's Cantina, look no further than the distinguished groups known as Doctors Without Borders and Engineers Without Borders. They obviously dined here too and named their organizations accordingly. I'm officially founding a Bloggers Without Borders movement starting right now!
*humor-blogs.com always follows the admonitions set forth by Christopher Cross......that's why they still think of Laura and laugh, not cry because she'd want it that way.*