First it started with the dreaded droopy carne asada fry invasion. Then they took pizza. How could we loose pizza? Well, we did, to a cardboard tasting menace called Dominos, which began to infiltrate the Mission block by block from 30th to Division, Guerrero to Potrero. Heroes fell one after the other - Papa Potrero, Serrano, Cybelle, and perhaps remembered most fondly- Zante.
Next up: tacos - soon deep fried was all they tried - Baja style. No more boiled chicken, shredded pork, sauteed fish, etc.
Months later a new infiltrator: 7-11. One by one, the juice shops fell to the frozen slush drink juggernaut. Fresh meant cold. Fresh meant headache. Fresh meant blue.
After a year of sensory dullification we lost the only thing that mattered: burgers. In-N-Out opened at 20th @ Valencia. A bikes only drive-thru , how could we resist? Free air, free water, valet bike parking: all so delightful.
Donuts fell next, shop by shop, with each obscure out of season toasted nut topping becoming extinct, never to surface again. The neighborhood finally learned to dunk, and dunk it did.
Such SoCalized medicine flooded the streets. Everywhere were carts, huts, & shacks - all shaped in the like of their foodstuffs. A nonstop barrage of fried chicken, chili fries, and pastrami became too much for neighborhood morale. Defeated, they gave up what mattered most, and signed over the rights to their BART tube for conversion to a freeway tunnel.
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