When I first arrived in Costa Rica, there weren’t that many American chains. One restaurant, on the east end of San Jose, was a fake TGIF. It was really hard to tell the difference. They had the old, wooden canoes on the wall and the red and white stripes. I went in to eat their once. After a few years, I heard that the restaurant got in trouble for using the TGIF name. Now the real thing arrived on the west end of town. I go there about once a year, when I need a place on the way home and reliable.

We were celebrating my daughter’s gym show performance - a culmination of six months of practices for an afternoon of exhibitions. Addison wanted nothing to do with the dinner. He was still pissed off from not being able to eat the little chocolate heart the attendant at the gym handed out for all the family members. It the exact size of his windpipe. He carried this grudge into TGIF and promptly whipped all the crayons and cute little coloring page on the floor. Coco managed to hold him still for a moment for a photo.

I had a bowl of soup. My nanny couldn’t believe a piece of fish was $8.00. She’d pay half that for double the serving in her town. Ah, but we were in the big city, with the lights, the traffic and the fancy restaurants. We escaped with a tab of about $20.00. I suppose that’s not bad. The food was nothing to write home about, but my daughter got to clink her glass of ice tea in a toast and relish in her job well done. I suppose we’ll end up here again in six months, as I admit a chain restaurant serves it’s purpose once a year. Maybe my son will walk right through the front doors and Coco will have mastered that front roll on the parallel beam. But I bet Addison will stay throw his crayons on the floor, and it won’t get any cheaper.