There is a formerly-secret bar downstairs from this hole-in-the-wall taqueria that used to be really cool.
Now I am here to actually get takeout tacos to take on an hour long subway ride home because no energy to cook anything, and no Mexican food near my home.
There is now a burly guard at the formerly secret door. And young men in well tailored suits coming up from downstairs, exuding that I-own-the-world air that is so familiar. I am content to remember that I will never be one of them and probably will be happier.
tinfoilparachute 