One might say that I should be well-prepared for disappointment by ordering a side of french fries from a mexican restaurant. However, my friends and I chose to eat at Santi's, which well-exceeds any other mexican establishment in which I've dined. My expectations are just that much higher that I can no longer walk into La Hacienda King Street and deal with 16 year old girls drinking margarita pitchers which likely have one shot of tequila in them. And did I mention the smell of lost, old, gym socks? Anyway, back to Santi's. So the young gay man who brought us our food hands me my side of fries.. and much to my disbelief, the fancy wax paper and basket of fries looked like the leftover french fries that you would bring home from Applebee's as a kid. There were about 10-15 fries total, all of them unseasoned, and a little less than fully cooked.
Our food runner was wearing this outfit
This is what I expected