Jerk Chikin n' K-tel

Took a break from work today and hit a little Jamaican restaurant I know for lunch.

Imagine a little hole in the wall where all the tables and chairs are black and green with little bottles of Matouk's Pepper Sauce everywhere.

Anyhow I ordered my jerk chicken with dirty rice and beans and sat down to chow down on spicy lunch.

Staring out of the picture window looking out at Yonge Street, I enjoyed my food watching the world go by. The stereo speakers mounted about the restaurant pumped out the requisite Bob Marley tracks. Come to think of it, I don't know if you can actually get a license to open a carribean restaurant without proof of Marley or steel pan music CDs.

The food was good and the atmosphere made my mind wander between downtown Toronto and a sandy little BBQ shack somewhere on white sand and blue shores.

Then the music suddenly switched like a vinyl LP getting yanked off the needle. Then all of a sudden I am listening to Paula Abdul's "Rush Rush" (circa 1991)!

Ok I thought...maybe this is just a mistake...maybe somebody flipped on the radio? Even the Rastaman working the buffet counter probably gets tired of non-stop reggae once in awhile.

But no! The volume went up and the restaurant started to groove ever so slightly. It was deliberate, and it was craved.

For the next twenty minutes, the stereo wailed out 80's classics ranging from Bonnie Tyler to Anita Baker to Sheena Easton and even the rarely spotted "Sade".

Then just as fast as they entered my lunch hour, the 80's were gone and the restaurant was back to playing the Reggae. The stereo volume went down, the customers lowered their heads over their plates, and the buffet guy stopped chopping the chicken in rhythm to the music. It was so surreal.

(just when I was hoping to hear Kool and the Gang)

I love my little Jamaican restaurant!