Just like BB King once sang, the thrill is gone. The thrill of the food truck, that is.
Now that every street corner in LA has an orphan food truck hanging out, hocking it’s wares.
Like pocketwatches in the lining of a trenchcoat. I guess that’s a little dated…ok fine, he’s got iPad’s in his trenchcoat. 2 of them, cuz that’s all that will fit. Hmm, and let’s change the trenchcoat…
There was a time when I would drive an hour to get my hands on the cheesy goodness from the Grilled Cheese Truck after waiting an additional hour in line for the stoned chefs to finish my creation.
Those days are gone.
Though trucks are still a fun phenomenon, I ain’t waiting in no line and I won’t go out of my way…unless there are dozens of these babies lined up to serve me.
Enter Melrose Night. All the food truck hookers come out to party.
It’s a pretty nifty way to overeat.
However….on my way home I felt a rumblin’ in my tumblin’….
Let’s just say I had to sprint that last few blocks in order to maintain my…dignity.
As I had visited so many trucks, narrowing down the list of suspects proved to be difficult.