Chip Boy

As I have mentioned before, La Feria is a favorite Friday night destination for some friends and me. The food is certainly not the best, but it has just the right mix of convenience, price, atmosphere, and quality to make it the right place to choose on a Friday night after a full work week.

Another thing it has is cute waiters.

Unlike many places where the service staff all has nametags, the staff at La Feria is adorned only in black pants and white shirts.

Because of this relative anonymity of the staff, we have come up with names for them. Our regular waitress is slowpoke – a name she has not overcome since her first days at the restaurant. She’s our regular waitress because she regularly forgets to charge us for chips and salsa and to upgrade my queso order. There is also leather-daddy because we all know what he has on underneath and what we would be in for if we ever were invited to his apartment (he’s not really attractive, but deep down we all want to be invited to his place).

My favorite, though, is Chip Boy.

Chip Boy knows the flirtatious glance and smile, but he has mastered the perfect swish with his hips to verify his sexuality, to invite the extra glance, and to dismiss himself as unattainable in that one perfected move.

I’ve seen him at the bars: I know his sexuality.

I don’t hide my flirtatious stare.

I’m vain enough to fantasize beyond the attainable.

I would certainly go to La Feria on Friday nights if he was no longer working there, but the flirtatious dance adds to the cheap pleasures that a Friday night happy hour affords. Fantasy adds to the joys in life that we may never achieve and keeps us striving for more.

I like my fantasy life.