Friday, May 15, 2009

The Flamingo Cafe


Today, during my after school nap, I received a few texts and phone calls. In my nap-induced dream delirium, I texted and called my friends back. I woke up, disappointed about Wayne not making it to the movies and waiting for Jake to return from the Flamingo Cafe in Progreso, Mexico.
The thing is, I know no Wayne and there is no Flamingo Cafe... yet!!!

When I grow up and by some twist of fate decide to open a restaurant, it is going to be called The Flamingo Cafe. The sign will be neon. The structure will be an open-air tiki hut. True to my Indian roots, I will serve hot tea and spicy snacks through scorching summers. I might also have hot soups and ciabatta bread pizzas. The only cold beverages will be mango lassi, Kool-Aid, cantaloupe granitas, and, during Ramadan, falooda. There might be a fountain that customers can roll their pants up and dip their feet into. The chairs upon which they sit will be of the plastic lawn sort.
There will be a small, cozy inside section to the tiki hut, with books and books and books and books to take outside and read on the hammocks. Wi-fi will, of course, be provided free-of-charge. If somehow I can get a dolphin, there will be a dolphin.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

dust

I have identified three aspects of the Rio Grande Valley as Particular Impositions. They are: the sun; the wind; and the dust.

Between the first two, there is no relief. There is heat, interrupted--though these interruptions grow less intense as the nights grow shorter--by the wind, which then rattles my eardrums. They both force my eyes shut and find ways into my home, overwhelming the AC or music with which I seek to drown both out.

The dust, akin to heat and wind only insomuch as they exasperate one another, must be considered as a monster in its own right. It is not incessant. But when it is, it overwhelms. It obstructs; it chokes; it scratches. I see it clouding at my feet with every misstep and behind cars with any swerve. It is so grainy on overheated skin and so everywhere after unexpected gusts of wind.

And even though the dust is not always, when I imagine the Valley, it settles itself onto everything.