tots tender_square the casino had more employees working the floor than patrons visiting the slots. after taking two trips to lug all our bags from the parking garage to our hotel room we were hungry. the early dinner we’d eaten of pan-fried tilapia, oven-roasted asparagus and brown rice got all burned up by that trek. even though we brought snacks for our stay, we wanted something more substantive—it was only after 6 when we arrived. the snack shop was shuttered but johnny rockets restaurant was open. we lingered at the stanchion menu, scanning. he opted for a turkey club; i went for the tater tots slathered in cheese goo and bacon bits. we sat at the formica counter waiting for our takeout order to be filled. the place was decked out like an old 50’s diner with red vinyl seating and dim lights. the counter had a small jukebox that would play music for 5 cents. i searched my wallet for a nickel, dropped in it. “oh, that doesn’t work,” the waitress informed me. bummer. the kitchen staff was all tatted up and half the women had colored hair in purple and blue. they moved unhurriedly about their tasks, yet each action was as precise as a ballet. back in our room, i sat on the bed cross-legged and started chowing on my tots, burning the roof of my mouth with the liquefied cheese. he ate half his club and put the other half in the fridge for the following day. “we probably could have just split those tots instead,” he said. i nodded. i slid the styrofoam container over to the center of the california king to share, and took a half-reclined position where i propped myself up on one arm. i resumed eating. upon seeing this tableau he said, “you’re hilarious.” i looked up at him. “is it because i’m david hasslehoffing the shit out of these tots right now?” he sat down on the bed with his fork, stabbed at a tot. “that was a really solid 2007 reference.” i smiled. “i do what i can.” he made fun of me for eating piglets as a so-called vegetarian, saying that when i go all out, i go all out. i guess that’s true, in more ways than i’d known about my life. we didn’t end up finishing the container of tots; we got our fill. i chucked the uneaten half into the trash on my way into the bathroom for a soak. i needed the privacy of a closed door to send a quick email to someone i couldn’t get off my mind. 211125 what's it to you? who go blather from