Caleb took me for Pho this morning at his favorite local joint. As soon as he sat down at one of the low plastic tables, one of the women serving food came up to him and asked him if he’d like the same thing he ate the last time he was there. Which was also his first time, over a week ago.
It could have been his skin color that made her recognize him, it could have been his beard. It could have been his tattoos, but I’m willing to bet it was his skinny jeans.
(I would highly recommend the place, which served food so fresh that it practically snapped when served, but unfortunately I don’t know the name. It’s on a street corner in District 1, next to the “Intellectual Bookstore.”)
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