Have you ever popped a perfect bag of popcorn? Like you dropped that bag in the microwave only to have perfectly popped white popcorn come out of that bag. No burnt pieces. I’ll let a few, maybe a dozen, unpopped kernels slide, but I’m talking a perfect bag of popcorn. Anyone?
I’d never seen such a sight, in fact, I didn’t even think it was possible, I couldn’t even FATHOM that it was possible until I rolled up into the White Horse a few nights ago. Nothing prepared me for what was about to happen, the dive bar atmosphere, the strangely talkative bartender who never quite looked you in the eye, the red lights, the pool table, I was caught completely off guard.
Apparently there is a woman at the White Horse who will cook you hot dogs. This is rad. Hot dogs are rad. When my roommate inquired about this, the bartender told us there no hot dogs, but after a short and semi-awkward silence from he followed up with “Do you want peanuts, pretzels or popcorn?” It wasn’t until the popcorn arrived did I realize what we’d stumbled into. THE PERFECTLY POPPED BAG OF POPCORN.
Like I said before, I had never imagined such a thing could exist, let alone have it drop down in front of me in such an unexpected manor. I don’t know if it can solve the problems of the world, but that bag of popcorn was truly one of greatest gifts Los Angeles can give to our sorry messed up world. If you’re ever over on Western looking for some good times, you owe it to yourself. No. You owe it to your grandparents, your parents, your kids, anyone who has ever popped a bag of popcorn for you, you owe it to them to stop in and see what that truly perfect bag of popcorn is like. You won’t be sorry.
(Yeah yeah, I know that places like the Roost pop their own popcorn and it’s fresh and good and makes happiness explode forth from even the saddest old men, BUUUT c’mon, gimme a break, how many times have YOU seen a perfect bag of popcorn?!)