You know how you love your child but sometimes you want to murder it and frame the murder on your high school counselor because she didn’t accept your sexual advances? Me neither.
You know how you love your child but sometimes you want to murder it…
But I suspect it’s a comparative feeling to when you enter this Tapas y Tintos. Let me tell you, I love the one in South Beach, but this one just isn’t the same. My croquetas were cold in the middle. Granted, I did order them at midnight so either the cold, crunchy center was inspired by resentment or flat-out incompetence.
My best friend’s fiancée dances flamenco at the other location every once in a while, and she did so at the midtown one this past Friday. The mood was set perfectly; an outdoor, rainy, windy, Miami evening a half-step from the ghetto. “It was a dark and stormy night,” just like the intro to half of all amateur short stories. My server fucked up my drink order twice, which was disappointing but forgivable. However, nothing bothered me more than what I’m about to rant about.
What is it?
When you’re sitting down having a meal, have you ever thought to yourself, “hey, you know what I need? A woman standing up on a stage playing congas and timbales to a Power 96 soundtrack!” No, you haven’t, because that’s a stupider idea than ABC’s Pan Am. Yet that’s exactly what went down. She just stood there adding a LOUD FUCKING SOUNDTRACK to existing shitty club music. I’m not sure who needs the bulk of the blame, the lady, the “DJ” sitting next to her playing an iTunes playlist as he browsed his Facebook, or the owner of the place who booked her. I had a running theory with my friends that she was fucking the owner. After her set, the owner seemed to be looking pretty deeply into her eyes so I think I was right.
She just stood there adding a LOUD FUCKING SOUNDTRACK to existing shitty club music.
Look, one thing is flamenco, because the music is good and the dancing nice, plus it’s also not annoyingly loud. But when you have Bam-bam over there smacking some Latin percussion to the point where people’s ear drums are committing seppuku, there’s a problem. It’s just not conducive to pleasant eating/drinking.
Tapas y Tintos, I came up with a few more ideas of how you can make the dining experience slightly more uncomfortable.
- Mash up some Viagra® and sprinkle it in men’s drinks, then point spotlights at their junk and have all the servers say things like “sir, please” or “that’s inappropriate.”
- Punch everyone in the face.
- Put just a dash of sugar in everyone’s gas tank.
- Play nothing but *nsync’s “Bye Bye Bye” all night.
- End the world.
I’m going to give you another shot, Tapas y Tintos in midtown, but if you break my heart once more I’ll never visit the midtown location again. At least the staff was friendly, however at this point it’s like a carjacker leaving you an apology note.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 3535 NE 2nd Ave
- Miami, FL 33137
- (305) 392-0506