Okay, last time I was writing about homeless people and nightmares and good stuff like that. A real laugh riot it was. It’s a wonder Comedy Central hasn’t been all over it. You betcha.(1)
And, at first, when we woke up the next morning, which was August 7, the day of our anniversary, I didn’t think things were going to get much better. You see, I usually get an attack of altitude sickness when I go back to Albuquerque. That’s in spite of the fact that I grew up there and you’d think I’d be immune. But...no.
Well, this time, I’d not had an attack! I’d been just fine. At last, I thought, I’ve gotten over it. And I was so dang pleased with myself. Just positively bursting with pride...and oxygen.
You wanna guess what happened next? You wanna? Come on. I dare you. I double dog dare you. Heck, I’ll throw in a cat and a gerbil as well.
About the photos: First, an interior shot of the Slow Burn. Love the murals. Second, Martha at the Slow Burn having breakfast back in 2022. This was back when the staff was a wee bit more friendly. (Come on, guys. Ease up on the A’Tute and lay out some protein for us Geezers.)
Third, another picture of the Casita in Albuquerque. Like I say, one of our favs.
Anyway, you guessed it, I woke up feeling like someone had parked a sixteen-wheeler on my chest during the night. And then the driver, and a traffic cop, and maybe the tuba section of a passing marching parade all decided to jump up and down on my head. While wearing boots. With hobnails. Honestly, I’m not sure what a hobnail is.(2) But it sounds nasty. So I’ll throw a couple of ‘em into my story just for drama. You never know when some film producer is going to come along and say, “We need a travel blog with hobnails for the next James Bond movie.” And I wanna be prepared.
Anyway, I was sick...whether from the altitude, or allergies, or what, I couldn’t say. But, whatever, I was bound and determined not to show it. This was our Anniversary, dang it! Our 42nd anniversary at that. I was NOT going to spoil it for Martha.
So...I hydrated like crazy and got out my trusty can of saline nasal spray. And, for the rest of the morning, every time Martha turned her head and wasn’t watching, I’d use my water bottle and/or my spray. Ever try to hide the fact that you’ve got a bright yellow can of salt water stuck up your left nostril? Remarkably difficult.
We decided we’d walk up to the Slow Burn Coffee Roasters, which is a cafe just up the street from the Casita. We’ve eaten there and had coffee several times before and we figured it was out best bet for breakfast. So, we headed out. A few minutes later, we were there.(3)
Here, we had one small disappointment. Slow Burn was still in business, and the coffee was excellent, but they no longer seemed to offer breakfast sandwiches or burritos, which they had before. When we got there, the menu consisted entirely of pastries, and pretty sweet ones at that. There were no proteins available. (4)
The other small downer was that the friendly staff members we’d met there before (and of whom I’ve written about previously) were nowhere to be found. Instead, there were a couple of young people behind the counter who regarded us with The Look...i.e., the look you get when you’re a Boomer in an area thickly peopled with twenty-somethings. The *look* says louder than words, “Oh, Christ, now I have to deal with a couple of bourgeois, heteronormative, suburban, *old* people who don’t have any interesting tattoos or genital piercings.”
After a bit of wheedling, we finally got them to sell us something to eat. Martha had a muffin and I had a (rather ghastly) empanada--as I say, all sugar and no spice. It was definitely not what the doctor ordered for either someone who has to watch her sugar intake very closely Martha), or someone else whose stomach was currently doing a complicated series of hyperspatial gymnastics involving flips, flops, and 360 rotations that would have done credit to The Flying Wallendas on a good day (moi).
Anyway...we nibbled at what was before us, and then figured it was time to leave. We were a bit depressed by the whole business. I mean, we had really enjoyed going there on our previous visits. I was looking forward to returning. But, now, it didn’t seem to our sort of place any more.
Still, who knows? Maybe the next time we visit, there will be a new staff, or the old one will have had a good humor implant. And maybe the restaurant will see the wisdom of adding a bit of chorizo and cheese to their empanadas.
After that, we strolled back the Casita. From there, we figured, we’d head to Old Town...
...which would be the beginning of the better part of my story.
Well, okay... there *was* one small nose bleed along the way. But it was just a trickle. Hardly worth mentioning...unless you’re wearing a white shirt. Which I was. Unfortunately.
Still, not to worry. I’ll pass it off as a very thin power tie.
More to come.
Footnotes:
1. Pita Pain. Remember? From last time. The joke? Well, I thought it was a funny. I’m sure it will get bigger laughs if I just keep telling it. I’m a man who won’t take Ho for an answer.
2. Okay. I looked it up. Here it is: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobnail
3. Slow Burn has a website here: https://www.slowburncoffee.com/
4. Or maybe there were just no proteins available to *us.* I’ve checked the Google reviews of Slow Burn and there are several references to breakfast and other burritos. But they certainly weren’t available when we asked about them. Indeed, I got the distinct feeling that even requesting them was considered a serious faux pas on our part.
Copyright©2025 Michael Jay Tucker
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