It's next to one of the busiest intersections in Los Angeles. Pico and La Brea. 8 lanes of stopped and gone exhaust pipes spewing out their cocktail of carcinogens. The walls of Lucy's Drive-Thru have absorbed nee taken on the patina of months of drive-by exhaustings.
So I order a chille relleno burrito. A lot can be inferred by ordering a chile relleno burrito. I tack on a carnitas taco. A lot can be inferr... you get the idea. Oh, and an horchata, or rice drink. A lot can be infer... right.
A patron leaves the dine-in area. She staggers to a nearby pay phone. She half-squats and depants herself. Without even fully squatting, she pulls her panties to one side and begins to relieve herself not 15 feet from the order window. No one looks, no one says anything. She leaves a puddle as proof of ownership. She staggers away.
The chile relleno burrito, now that I've visually assaulted you, tastes different now. The tortilla is flaky store-bought. And the chile is a bit greasy.
The food tastes directly proportional to your BAC %.
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