It's rare for me to stay out until bar time, even rarer that I go out for Mexican food at 2 a.m., but that's exactly what happened last night. A few friends and I, after an evening of Glo Bowl at Bay View Bowl, went to Jalisco because Todd wanted horchata.

Someone tried to order guacamole, but the waitress said they were out of avocados. We didn't think much of it, ordered our meals and went back to eating free chips and slurping the cinnamon rice milk. A few minutes later, the server returned to our table and said they had "found" an avocado, and although they could not make it into guacamole, I could order it sliced inside my bean burrito.

I wasn't sure what to make of this found avocado. I tried to ask -- in the least snarky voice possible -- where exactly they had found it, but the waitress didn't answer. I imagined it lodged behind a big cooler and a cook or dishwasher shoving his arm between the wall and appliance to nab the fruit. (I also imagined it perched atop a pile of raw chicken, but I quickly shooed that image from my brain.)

Indeed, I was a little leery of the suddenly materialized avocado, but I decided I was already eating at Jalisco at bar time, so I was already compromising my better judgment. Plus, the pitted fruit has a thick, protective skin, so it seemed relatively safe to eat.

Today, I'm thinking it wasn't such a good idea.