Finally, a guy who gets it!

Mr. Firefighter suggested dinner last weekend. I, of course, was pretty psyched. (See previous posts in which I describe how hot he is.) So, he calls me the day before to work out the details of when and where. He mentions that he lives near this nice beach area where there are a bunch of great little restaurants, so, if the weather’s nice, we could just walk from his place. Quaint restaurants near the ocean, romantic evening walk back to his place – sounds perfect. Except for one little snag. I eye my closet. And the ridiculously high pair of pink strappy heels I’d picked out to wear.

“Um… how long of a walk is it?” I asked.

“Not far.”

I bite my lip, eyeing those adorable pink heels. “Hmm…”

As any gal who has ever spent any time in really adorable shoes knows, they are not made for walking. Walking equals blisters which equals pain which equals cutting the evening short when you really wanted to spend a little more time getting to know one yummy firefighter.

“So,” I ask, “exactly how far is not far? Because I need to know how high my heels can be.”

He laughs. Hard. But, luckily he’s read THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR STRUTTING and knows how serious I am about my shoes. He promises it’s not that far, but maybe not stiletto friendly. With one last longing look at my pink heels, I dig into my closet while on the phone with him, searching for a pair that still scream “yowza!” while being able to take me on a short hike to the restaurant and back.

But, as I’m discarding pair after teeteringly tall pair, the most amazing thing happens. Mr. Firefighter says, “Tell you what – you wear whatever pair of heels you want, and we’ll plan the rest of the evening around that.”

I freeze. Did he just say what I think he said?

“Seriously?” I ask, my gaze pinging back to my adorably pink shoes.

“Seriously. Hey, the world should revolve around your shoes.”

Wow. Someone pinch me. Finally a guy who gets it!

So, we end up driving (yay!) to this great little Italian restaurant in Santa Cruz. For any of you that have read Melanie Jackson’s novella in STRUTTING, you might have an idea what Santa Cruz is like. For anyone who hasn’t yet, people who live there have adopted a slogan - Keep Santa Cruz Weird. And they’re serious. It’s the most anything-goes, eclectic mix of people you can imagine, all stuck together in one funky little beach town. I love it. And the restaurant we went to was pure Santa Cruz. It was called Lucio’s and owned by this cool Italian guy named, you guessed it, Lucio.

Lucio is a skinny, energetic, spitting image of Albert Einstein. And he knows it. Alongside portraits of himself, posters of Einstein are pasted all over the walls of his restaurant. In one corner of the room, a TV was playing the movie Borat. At every good scene, Lucio would jump up and down, directing all eyes to the TV. (Nothing like two nekkid Kazakhstani guys wrestling to fuel your appetite, right?) He spent the entire evening laughing, joking in his loud, heavily accented voice, bouncing from one table to another kissing people on the cheek. (I counted. He got me 8 times.) He was like the Energizer Bunny. On speed. With big fluffy white hair. He made the whole restaurant feel like one big party. Especially when he put on the dance music, did a booty dance across the dinning room, and pulled out colored wigs for all the cooks to wear. No joke. Sorry the pic is so blurry (it’s hard to shoot straight with your phone when you’re laughing so hard you’re crying), but, yes, that is a man in pink braids and one in a platinum bob with a bow in his(her?) hair. I think there was a blue afro somewhere, too. Lucio himself - possessing wild enough hair naturally - opted for an Indiana Jones hat instead (“Look at me, I’m Indy! I’m-a de Indiana Jones, everybody!")

Needless to say, I think I burned off every calorie off my incredibly tasty meal laughing that night. Way too much fun. I can't wait to go back.

So, what are your favorite restaurants and what keeps you going back?


~Trigger Happy Halliday


P.S. Happy Friday the 13th everyone! (cue ominous music...)