Casa Bonita: Disneyland Mexico

As a deep and intellectual person, I often think about life’s deepest questions. What is the meaning of life? What is my purpose here? Should I eat Lucky Charms or Frosted Flakes? (E. all of the above plus Cinnamon Toast Crunch). But the question of what heaven will look like was answered on Wednesday: it looks like Casa Bonita.

Actually it’s probably better than heaven, because to get into heaven you have to be nice and virtuous and then you have to die. To get into Casa Bonita you just pay ten bucks. Casa Bonita is essentially what happens when a Mexican restaurant and a small amusement park get drunk one night and have a baby that they abandon in the middle of Denver. If the name Casa Bonita sounds familiar, you probably have watched the South Park episode where Cartman goes there. As a fellow fat, foul-mouthed, fourth-grader (at least mentally speaking) I watched that episode and instantly wished a place like Casa Bonita really did exist, but like many non-Coloradoans, I thought it was just some sort of mythical legend, like the Loch Ness Monster or hockey fans. As it turns out, South Park is just a big inside joke that only the state of Colorado is in on, and now that I live up here the show makes way more sense.

Anyway, unlike Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and Jessica Alba, Casa Bonita does exist, and we finally went this past week. We were driving along when someone shouted to look straight ahead. I did, and before my very eyes was: a car dealership. For whatever reason Casa Bonita is in the middle of about five car dealerships, a bunch of dollar stores, one of the largest Wal-Marts I’ve ever seen. But sure enough, there it was, glowing in all of its glory.

As far as the food goes, well, it was Mexican food. There’s only so much you can do to Mexican food before it stops being Mexican food and starts being edible food. But as someone who just got back from a trip to Texas and way too many roadside Mexican booths, Casa Bonita’s food wasn’t nearly as bad as people said. Then again, asking me if food tastes good is like asking a dog if it likes its food (coincidentally, dog food isn’t all that bad). I just the other day drank a combination of Coke, salt, pepper, and Jalapeno Tabasco sauce for $2 (I was going to do it for $1, but I held out for a better offer, cause I still have some dignity).

But the entrees were just to distract you from the real thing: the unlimited sopopillas (you just raise this little red flag when you want more). Now, I don’t know about women and skinny dudes, but when real men hear all-you-can eat, we don’t think “I’ll eat until I’m satisfied.” We think “I am going to eat this place into the red and make them regret ever challenging me with an all-you-can-eat buffett.” This is why restaurants are the second deadliest place for men over the age of 18 after shopping malls (stats courtesy of Anderson Cooper). It didn’t help that the sopopillas were awesome; I would have married one if it wasn’t just trying to use me to get its green card. Of course, we paid the price for all that eating. One of my friends had the worst look on his face when he was done: the look of a man who had an epic battle with his food and he was about to lose (not just lose, but Mortal Combat “FINISH HIM!” lose).

Once you’re done eating, you can roll around and check out the many other entertaining things at Casa Bonita. There is a waterfall where actors do a little skit involving (I swear I’m not making this up): guns, cowboy hats, a blonde wig, a giant butterfly net, and a large angry gorilla named Chiquita who is there to enhance your dining experience and rape your children (he is actually listed on the website as “the angry gorilla”; I’m not sure what makes him angry, but it could be that he eats too many enchiladas). There are people who dive into a pool and a strolling mariachi band, which a friend of mine tricked into playing me a “Happy Birthday” song (“Happy Birsday, Happy Birsday Meecho!” is what it sounded like), an arcade, picture booths, and a cave.

We finally had to leave, and I’m pretty sure all of my friends are regretting taking me because I will now resort to the same high pitched whining and tantrums that I used to use to get my way as a child (and as a teen and a young adult for that matter) to make them take me back. In my opinion, Casa Bonita is what amusement parks should look like. I’ve been to Disney Land, and I disagree that it is the happiest place in the world. It is, however, the hottest, most crowded, most expensive, and most tiring place in the world. Really, I just go there for the food anyway. I remember on one trip to Disneyland with a group, I left the group midway through the day, bought three bags of cotton candy, and walked by myself all the way back to the hotel to watch football. So if you park designers out there are listening, remember these wise words: less lines and rides, more gorditas and enchiladas, and plenty of clean toilets for Chiquita the angry gorilla.