Last weekend, I hit up El Mezcal in Lawrence for Mexican and margaritas with some former coworkers.
I ordered my Burrito Gigante with “no beans.” John questioned my line of thinking, forcing me to reply “I hate beans.” With a look of shock on his face, he quietly indicated that proclaiming your hate for beans in a Mexican restaurant could amount to retaliation from the all-Mexican staff.
If they spit in my food, it was tasty saliva.