Parents, beware. Your kids may have been standing around a nightclub last Wednesday afternoon telling dirty, racist, sexist jokes. And just to get a job.
You might think the Baja is going to be a comedy club, with stand-up waiters and waitresses, but no. This was the scene: most of the 30-odd young people (all of legal age, but many just barely) had already been interviewed, deemed acceptable (that is, probably and potentially pert), and prepped for what was to come. Come be yourselves, they were told, tell a few jokes, tell us why you want to work at our new club. Most of all–and in this they all succeeded grandly–be as cute as a gosh darn button and dress like you were raised in Santa Cruz and not Glencoe. In other words, be as rad as possible, see?
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And could they dance! They gyrated, fell naturally into a conga line, then just as easily segued into a tempestuous, temptress-laden cakewalk, complete with sexy undulations.
Still, there were lots of great kids who would add genuine sparkle to the club. They were funny, spontaneous, totally rad.
