Last night I went to the Marilyn Manson - Rob Zombie show up in Broomfield with a friend of mine. Since we were up in the area, I suggested we stop off at Santiago's for some food first.
Now I've been talking up Santiago's for years, calling it the best green chile in the city, praising their tacos, how they ground their own beef and don't put any seasoning in it, how they wisely leave the sour cream to their imitators. And I was HUNGRY, too, so I ordered a burrito and two tacos.
It was so good, I slammed it down. The green chile was so hot, I kept sucking on my Pepsi.
And by the time we got to the 1stBankCenter, my guts had completely rejected the meal. I wasn't poisoned. I just think I ate too much of an irritating food too quickly. No big deal, really. Some Maalox and I'd be fine. Suffer a little on the pot, all would be good.
But I wasn't anywhere near any Maalox and the only pot around was a crowded, piss-soaked, beer-stained stadium commode. Seriously?
After Manson's set (he played first), we went outside for some fresh air. The movement made me queasy. I ended up in a heap against a wall, my intestines writhing, waves of cold sweats coming over me. By the time we got back to our seats, it was done. I hurled as quietly and peacefully as I could in place, asked my buddy for some paper towels, then spent almost all of Zombie's set in the mens.
Don't mix metal and Mexican food, man... just don't do it.