Don’t Order the Second Sopapilla
Parting is such sweet sorrow, but so too is eating until you vomit.
After five days in New Mexico–your belt nothing more than a decorative adornment–you’ll say to yourself, ‘Hey Lauren–let’s really give this heart attack on the plane home a go!’
During your final meal, you’ll eat enough chips and salsa to feed five Mexican families living in one single-family home. You’ll also eat a plate of melted cheese with a side enchilada. And why not throw in a sopapilla, the square footage of which could second as a life raft.
You’re now on the brink of becoming dangerously ill, but the thought of returning to D.C. without one more sopapilla is making you equally sick. Better sorry than safe, as they say.
But as you sit there slumped over the table, jar of honey in hand, the D.A.R.E. slogan suddenly makes sense.
‘Just say no’ is about Mexican puff pastries.