Today was supposed to be a good day, yet how true that the days we expect to be the best have the potential to be the worst.
The plan was to go to Kuti's, a delightful pan-Africa/Middle Eastern place on 116th that caters to many a cab driver. I was to be going with a friend from work, a friend of his whom I've had the pleasure of spending time with before, and then another friend whom I had never met.
My friend and I arrive at Kuti's to find it closed. Disappointing, but no matter, as there are plenty of other good options. As we wait, I recommend Daoba Deli, an equally delightful Indian place that also caters to many a cab driver.
The friend of a friend, let's just call him Jerk, arrives and claims not to have enough time to make the short trip to Daoba, and recommends we walk over to Broadway to find a place. I dislike him already. We find ourselves on Broadway, and for reasons beyond comprehension, we end up at The Heights, a completely fine restaurant/bar, that focuses much more on being a bar. Now I hate Jerk.
Granted, my chicken enchilada was totally not bad. If I had made it at home I would have been happy. But to waste precious eating out time and money on a place such as The Heights is tragic for someone like me. By the time we were done, we had spent way more time than if we had simply went to Daoba. My disgust at this wasted opportunity is too much to bear, and I excuse myself early and go and throw up. Life is too short to waste on places like the Heights when there are such better options.
*The Jerk is a nice guy, but I can never forgive him for his mediocre sense of restaurant taste.
