osprey_archer | (Reply)

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As for the enchilada, they proved to be long, appetizing blintzes filled with red pepper and gunpowder, thinly cut, and covered with nitroglycerin. It is simply impossible to sit down to such a dinner without wearing a fireman’s helmet. We ran out of the Original Mexican Restaurant, hungry, angry, dying of thirst. Five minutes later we sat in a drugstore, the most ordinary American drugstore, and ate (oh, humiliation!) centralized, standardized, and numbered food, which he had cursed only half an hour before, drinking beforehand ten bottles of Coca-Cola apiece to quiet our disturbed nervous system.

This DEFINITELY needs to be a buddy road trip movie.