Pollo Feliz

In Tucson. At a vow renewal anniversary party. What do we decide to do? Get chicken. But we’re missing the Mariachi band, I protest. But chicken does sound good. Is it rude to sneak out for a few minutes to go on a chicken mission? Probably, but my accomplice is quite convincing. We covertly duck out: past the bellowing Mariachi singer (who is quite good, by the way), throngs of relatives (‘who are you? Oh, really? You are so handsome!)’, and the never ending buffet line (have some more, you’re soo thin!). all this for, wait for it — ‘CLOSED’ — the lights go out as soon as we turn into the drive thru.
Crap. Well there’s always tomorrow. And we made it a point to duck out of yet another family function (what is wrong with us?) to get this damn chicken. Obviously, we have issues. Issues that were soon forgotten after taking a bite of this delish chicken. I thought it was great. In LA, we have ‘Crazy chicken’ which does well in a pinch, but I can see why the chickens in Tucson are so darn happy. I’d be happy too if I was that yummy. Not the best chicken I’ve ever eaten, but tasty and juicy. Side of pinto beans and flour tortillas which were better than EPL’s. Worth the hassle? Mm, let’s just say it was an adventure, especially after the tongue lashing we got for venturing out into a really high crime area to get chicken. What can I say? We’re renegades. We live for the quest.