Juan's Flying Burrito, 2018 Magazine St., 504-569-000; 4724 South Carrollton Avenue
Juan's is so punk rock. Angry Caucasian caveman music blares from the hi-fi, and two to one, your pierced waiter might just have a titanium rod jammed through his anal wall and curling out the head of his cock. Of course, I brought my out-of-town friends here one day, and wouldn't you know, someone had just sucked down a tank of ironic gas and proceeded to torture us with the Footloose soundtrack. So if you want a nice peaceful dinner, fuck off. But if you want a decent, wholesome (and, unfortunately, about as Mexican as Nanook of the North) burrito, you'll need to party down at Juan's. I always go for the veggie punk on whole wheat with smoky pinto beans, taters, and guacamole subbed absolutely free for cheese. Of course, the bean tacos will show you a helluva good time, too. Then what you do is get fucked up on a pitcher of margaritas and pump some money into our economy by blowing your whole paycheck on overpriced tschotchkes in the delightful antique shops nearby.