Hell, forget Santa Barbara, this place could be in Portland, Maine were not the chicks attractive and wearing the shortest of skirts in mid-November.
The line usually snakes around the vibrantly colored tiled shell of a shack; which makes all the more reason to order a tall, frosty PBR from the open-air bar next door to keep you company while waiting.
The floor-to-ceiling walls are adorned with colorful, peyote-inspired paintings reminiscent of Frieda Kahlo on a margarita binge.
