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Inside the Hard Rock Hotel
When I was a much younger lawyer, about a dozen years ago, I had the unfortunate experience of representing a drunken lout who was caught jetting around a lake in his over-powered speedboat. Both the prosecutor and the judge took great offense at the name of his beloved runabout which he had affectionately coined the PINK TACO. This suggestive moniker was at least partly responsible for the poor stiff getting a stiff jail sentence. Now the name Pink Taco is hugely displayed both within and without the Hard Rock Hotel as it proudly advertises (not without a touch of irony I might add) one of our best Mexican restaurants. Oh, how times have changed. Now if you don't know what all the shoutin' was about, this is not the place for an explanation. For that I suggest you ask someone under forty, and then high tail it to the Hard Rock for a spicy experience that will have your eyes rolling back in your head. Unfold the velvety soft menu and plunge deeply into its shiny folds…there lies unspoken treasures that inflame as they satisfy. Limpid pools of fiery salsas beg. . .
TIM: JOHN, JOHN!!! I THOUGHT WE WERE REVIEWING A RESTAURANT HERE………
WHEW…….I GUESS I GOT A LITTLE OFF THE TRACK THERE…..ANYWAY….AS LONG AS I’M DOUBLE ENTENDERING---IS THAT A WORD TIM?
TIM: NO—IT IS NOT.
Well like I was saying folks, before Mr. No Fun interrupted, the PINK TACO may lack the ring of authenticity of Lindo Michoacan, but it gives most Mexican joints in town a real run for your money. Your hip quotients is inversely proportional to your degree of offense at the name—but don’t let that keep you from a meal here---because the food is seductively good. What the hipsters at the Hard Rock think up next is anyone’s guess….but the mind reels.
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