jessica garcia

FRIDAY, MARCH 30: I’m buying a burrito at the corner taco stand on Vermont and Hollywood when I hear my friend on the phone with the operator: “Guatelanida… look, lady, I don’t know how to spell Guatela-anything.” I choked on my 95-cent bag of chips. The operator didn’t help much, but Guatelinda was only one block south of the Dresden and two blocks east of the taco stand. I recognized it immediately as the place I used to stare at and point at, jaw agape, when my friend still lived catty-corner to it, off of Edgemont. This location was the last place I expected to find what I am now considering my now-favorite Friday night hangout. The only downfall was finding out almost immediately that sometimes bar tabs can actually take close to two hours to close if a place is crowded enough. A nice bonus: seeing how all hipsters are secretly waiting to get down to booty bass. I call bullshit on that too-cool-for-school couple from the Dresden earlier: I so saw them freaking on Guatelinda’s little checkered dance floor when “Tootsee Roll” came on. The evening ended with Missy Elliot, a few unexplainable drinks, and fifteen dollars cash back from an accidentally overcharged bar tab. Other than that, this dancing queen has no complaints. Well done, Guatelinda, and welcome to your new Friday night. (JG)