Looks like I'm the first to review Randa's because everyone's probably too busy lurking the storefront sipping on tallcans and kicking rocks for the 276th consecutive day in a row--otherwise known as the lost chapter of your life or, as pathological optimists and alcoholic denialists both like to refer to simply as, "another night out on the block." Seeing as I'm in the East Gay tonight, I managed to miss the last tidal wave into the vortex of ultimate time suckage and I'm so bummed. SIKE!
But in all fairness, the Mission has turned into a total fucking zoo with the constant stream of Bros & Herbs parading up and down 16th with their traveling sideshows raising a ruckus and creeping out all the homegirls like they own the place. And amid the chaos of the mobile frat party, Randa's Market manages to sit safely within the eye of the storm. Inside, polite queues form quietly behind the checkout counter, which is moderated by the occasional chit-chat and friendly service. You can totally imagine an instrumental arrangement of 'What Is Love' not being entirely out of place here. This is in direct contrast to the hoards of stripey shirt and popped collar dudes mobbing the hot dog guy outside.
Being a regular here is sort of a double-edged sword though; I mean, on the one hand, it's great to be remembered and acknowledged especially when you're in need of a favor like that one time when I was dead flat broke and dude rang me up $0 for a pack of smokes. On the other hand, when you're being called out as "THIS guy again" or thanked in terms of "See you back in half an hour" you really start to wonder when your life is finally going to hit rock bottom because seriously, it's already felt like forever on replay. Anyway, if you ever see me on the proverbial block, I'll take a tallcan of Tecate. KTHNXBAI. read more