Alan’s Grill

Here we go again, adrift at Cubao Expo. We spotted Humidor but it didn’t look like that we could snag some dinner food there. The door was open and I could feel the coolness of air conditioner and whiff cigarette smoke. There was a lady girl standing by the door and I asked her if they’re serving dinner. She pointed us to Alan’s Grill.

Dinner

We were hesitant to settle immediately since it looked like there were beer-drinkers aplenty inside Alan’s grill. I turned my head around the neighboring establishments and saw even more beer. Inside the restaurant we went.

It seemed as if the food were priced a bit too high–imagine the veggies at two-hundred and up. So, I told Jayce, “if all else fails, fried chicken.” Hers was pork chop. The servings weren’t a mouthful nor a handful. Each serving is for a pair so we stayed for a little more than we should chewing and chatting. In between, I was drinking my buddy beer and she her fave calamansi juice.

Our waiter was very helpful that I thought he was Alan himself. Feeling relaxed in front of the over-working electric fan, I just kept my beer coming–bottle after bottle after bottle (just three) while enjoying Jayce’s company.

And we couldn’t take our eyes off the collage painting of the Aquinos and the Marcoses. I told Jayce that Ninoy Aquino is the founder of the NPA (New People’s Army) according to my grandfather who really loved Marcos’s governance.

Dessert

After my last bottle of beer, we walked to find a desserts place–Sweet Ecstasy. From the outside it looked like a milkshake shop which Jayce would love. At the counter, there’s a gym-kind of guy who exuded a celebrity-kind of aura (he’s plastering a smile on his face). As he went out, Jayce asked the servers at the counter who he was because he looked familiar. Al Galang, that’s who. I remembered him from a chismax teevee show. It was like Al versus Hayden kind of thing.

Jayce was curious about Cerveza Negra shake but just by reading the combination of those two words made me squiggle my mouth so she ordered some Nutella cookie instead and I, Red Horse beer (sixty-five peso expensive for a small bottle).

We hang by the art gallery and tried so hard to start a conversation when the two of us were staring at a piece. I thank the alcohol for kickstarting a topic like how artists never talk about their pieces and poets let the readers interpret their words and Inception lets you think that there’s part two. But she thinks everything that transcends the normal is epal. I guess we really are in a third world country.