Natalie took us to a hole-in-the wall Mexican seafood place called Taqueria Cristina, and it pretty much met our expectations. Megan's ceviche was presented in a cocktail bowl and resembled shark chum. I stuck with the fish tacos, and that turned out to be a good bet. The giant margarita will put you under, and if it doesn't, don't worry because it comes with a free smaller margarita. David didn't order food because he double-booked us. He had to leave early to "make a pizza" with his girlfriend.
During dinner, we were also treated to a hired karaoke crooner on the restaurant stage. Just when we thought the night couldn't get any better, David went on to tell us he was dumping us for a new job in San Francisco. Congratulations and f*ck you, David.
There is, perhaps, one reason to read this book. The most interesting, emotionally wrenching scenes deal with the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911. Learning about that tragedy and the sufferings of factory workers almost made the book something important. In those pages, Hoffman captures tragic, poignant images of girls leaping, hand-in-hand, to their deaths to escape the worse hell of the flames. One can't help but be reminded of the souls who jumped from the twin towers on 9/11--images seared into our memories from the news footage.
It's a shame that Hoffman's dramatic retelling of the factory fire and the later fire at Dreamland are subjugated to the lackluster plot she contrives. Perhaps this book should have been satisfied with sticking to the facts.