BAJA FRESH One of the many things I do for a living is run around town in my Tattooed Yuppie Bus (tribal emblazoned S.U.V.) distributing bondage gear. I know it sounds like kind of some perverted version of Johnny Appleseed but it's just yet another aspect of the multifaceted dementia I call a life. As I sat at the stoplight I noticed a sign that read "Baja Fresh." I thought it a little peculiar because I've been to Baja and most of it was none too fresh, let me tell you. But after all, fresh is one of those words that are more comparative than descriptive. Fresh as on the vine? Fresh as a spring morning dew? Or fresh as just before that "not so fresh feeling" sets in? I decided to pull in partly because I was trapped on that side of the street. But mostly because I was in the mood to give some poor unsuspecting franchise feeding trough a scathing review. I walked in loaded for bear and ready to let them have both literary barrels. The first thing I saw was a salsa bar sitting in one corner emblazoned with the words "salsa bar" in some sort of fiesta font. Probably to keep some stressed-out yuppie on Zima and Prozac cocktails from mistaking it for a soup bar and ending up suing the place for his chronic acid reflux syndrome. "This is going to be too easy," I thought to myself as I stepped up to the counter. I ordered the burrito ultimo and a charbroiled "wild" gulf shrimp taco. Wild is another of those comparative terms that corporate marketing uses to influence our buying decisions. Wild as a rampaging rhino? Wild as a Crisco-covered weekend on Fire Island? How about wild as the crazy bum that humped my leg on Colfax last month? That is, after all, another story but wild nonetheless! There were signs everywhere with slogans like "no msg," "no lard," "no can openers," "no freezers," and "no microwaves." I don't usually ask about slogans or signage simply because I can't stand the training video response that follows. But it turns out that the answer was very simply that this place uses only fresh ingredients and makes everything to order. Before I could ask about how long I would be stranded here while my 100-mile-an-hour life sped past me, my food was ready. I sat down at my table with my baskets of food and gargantuan sports-style, logo-branded beverage container. I bit into the taco ready for the worst, and was blown away! It was stuffed, yes, I mean stuffed with tender succulent shrimp! And yes, they were wild! Crazy wild, the kind of wild that makes you want to scream VIVA LA BAJA! I tore into the burrito, it was awesome! Everything in the place was awesome; yeah sure, it looks like corporate America with a Mexican twist. But it doesn't taste like it, and it's lightning fast! I was off and back on the road again, Baja beverage container in hand. On my way back to pervo land I decided to make a quick stop at the "Woolly Mammoth-dong burrito joint" so I could fill up my Baja Fresh logo-emblazoned sports cup. They wouldn't let me, of course, but it gave them a look at their forthcoming demise. "That's right, you burrito dinosaur, be afraid, very afraid, the ice age is coming and its called Baja Fresh!" I ranted as they were dialing 911. I was speeding back toward my original destination when I saw the blue lights flashing behind me. I could just imagine the description: "6'6" 280 lb. tattooed white male in a graphics covered S.U.V." Not exactly nondescript. I thought fast as I rolled down the window and said, "Hello officers, have you heard about Baja Fresh?" displaying my sports cup--I'll be getting out in about a week and soon as I do you know where you will find me. All Rights Reserved © 2001 Go-Go Media, LLC