From Dink's To The Riviera

D.I.N.K. - Double Income No Kids. This acronym preceded N.I.M.B.Y. and followed Yuppie. It was pretty much an offshoot of two Yuppies who chose not to have kids. Here in Palm Springs, I believe the restaurant name refers to gay couples without kids. This is a clever name, appealing to Palm Springs massive gay population. For such a beautiful space, Dink’s has horrible food and a disgusting menu, an affront to anyone, gay or straight, with or without an income or kids. Thank God for The Riviera, a place so cool that I may have to start visiting my Dad more.

Something about travel forces me to wake up early. Since we were on Storm Watch 2008 in the southland, I wanted to get up before the rain. I had some amazing luck for this journey. Not only did I not hit traffic, but I only caught a few drops of rain. Since my Dad retired in Palm Springs, I make the drive a couple of times a year. Normally, I leave after work at three ayem and take the I-10, or what people from everywhere else in the country call, “I-10.” I’m always surprised how offended people get that we in Los Angeles add “the” to our freeway names. I took the sixty, traveling through such garden spots as City of Industry, Chino, and Riverside. Whenever I drive through a place like Riverside, I wonder how people ended up there and why they haven’t killed themselves. I’m guessing the crystal methamphetamine keeps their outlook on life pretty upbeat.

Visiting my Dad is a veritable food and film festival with the occasional manicure/pedicure thrown in. We started off at Rick’s Restaurant and Bakery. Rick’s is an excellent coffee shop with a Cuban twist. We almost didn’t end up at Rick’s because of Proposition 8. Yes, the election ended three weeks ago, but this issue is alive and well. My Dad has lists of businesses which contributed to Yes on 8. Now Rick never contributed but he is a Mormon, who allegedly tithes. Although the Mormon Church was the biggest contributor to Yes on 8, we let Rick and his tithing slide. There was also a rumor that Rick didn’t hire homosexuals, but since our server was gay as Christmas, I’ll file that one as just a rumor. I had an awesome steak sandwich and Dad had what he considers the best veggie burger. After lunch we went to see The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. It’s an amazing film about the son of a Nazi commandant and his family who leave their home in Berlin to oversee a concentration camp. The eight-year old son befriends an eight-year old in the camp and the story is told through his eyes. It’s super intense, but I highly recommend it.

My Dad’s favorite bartender (I’m in the top fifteen) and friend, Marci, joined us for dinner. She happens to be sober and have a four door car, but for some reason didn’t drive. We piled into my Dad’s two-door BMW and drove the four blocks to Dink’s. It’s a great space and we had a drink outside while waiting for our table. Since Dad’s a vegetarian, he ordered onion rings and fried eggplant sticks, while Marci and I started with shrimp wrapped in Serano ham and five spiced ribs. I had every intention to order more, but the food was so bad we didn’t even finish what we did order. I heard they spent ten million on Dink’s and for reasons beyond my comprehension created a menu consisting largely of shitty bar food. A cigarette couldn’t get the taste of Dink’s out of my mouth. I begged to go some place else and we drove over to the Riviera.

After pulling into the valet the wrong way, we made our way inside. I was blown away. They spent a hundred million redoing the Riviera and did an incredible job. It’s a throwback to the old style of Palm Springs, while still looking modern and feeling super comfortable. It’s also two blocks behind my Dad’s house. Before hitting the Riviera, I said I would go back to Dink’s for a drink. After the Riviera, I wouldn’t even take a shit at Dink’s.

Palm Springs has really grown on me. With the mountain backdrop, it’s not only beautiful, but it’s really peaceful, except during White Party, when you can get a blow job at any Starbucks with the purchase of a decaf, skim latte, but, hey, as long as they’re clean shaven and you don’t look down, a mouth is a mouth. Right, guys? Right? Is this thing on? In any case, I hated Dink’s, but I’m glad we went from Dink’s to the Riviera.