For Whom The Bell Tolls
I saw a guy in a black Jaguar in the drive-thru line at the Taco Bell on Phelan Blvd. yesterday. I don’t know why it surprised me. It was the Deadhead Sticker On A Cadillac conundrum, I think. Why should a rich guy be any less enamored of the ________ (fill in the blank) served out the window of Taco Bell than the rest of us proles? Also, that guy didn’t get rich enough to buy that Jag by throwing his money away; and as everyone knows, if nothing else you get more bang for your buck at Taco Bell than at any other fast food outlet. You can feed a family of four for under ten bucks with ________ (fill in the blank) from Taco Bell, provided no one gags on it. . . which they shouldn’t, unless they get one of those damn “Fiesta” burritos, the ones they put rice in. You don’t put rice in a burrito, goddamn it! It should be against the law to do so, if it isn’t already.
*****
For a long time now, I don’t eat at Taco Bell if I can help it. I did more than enough of that when I was young. Even back then, the only time I ever really wanted anything from there was late at night when I was headed home after a long night of partying. I don’t know why that was. But I used to find myself there often enough, sitting in the drive-thru line with a lot of other no doubt similarly bewildered drunks, not even able to remember making the decision to go there in the first place. It was like my car drove itself. I would end up ordering way more than I could ever eat, and often by the time I got home I didn’t want any of it. So I’d throw the bag into the ‘fridge and go to bed. And then a week or so later I would throw it away. Taco Bell stockholders got rich off of all the bean burritos I bought back in those days, and never ate.
*****
The first Taco Bell here was over on 11th Street, across from Gateway. I think it is a Vietnamese seafood place now. That location was pretty popular in high school. It had this faux volcano thing out front, with a smudge pot stuck into the top of it, lit up. We called it the eternal flame. Most kids went there because it was the only place open after midnight where one could go if one was suffering from an onset of the munchies.
I got thrown out of there one night, by some little burrito-making dude, for laughing too much. That’s right. I was in there with a friend of mine, and for some reason everything he said to me was hilarious, and I went into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Weird.
Another night I walked in there at some ungodly hour and caught the little burrito dude making “refried” beans. He had a steam table tray on the counter, into which he had dumped a couple of institutional-sized cans of pinto beans. He had a Black & Decker ½ inch power drill with a paint-stirrer attachment in it. And he was going to town. This is a true story. He was puréeing the beans with a power drill. I found that both repulsive and, at the time, extremely amusing; and I ended up laughing my way out of there again. Since then, except for all the times I was legally intoxicated, I have denied myself the pleasure of eating at Taco Bell. It is my loss, I am sure.
*****
*****
For a long time now, I don’t eat at Taco Bell if I can help it. I did more than enough of that when I was young. Even back then, the only time I ever really wanted anything from there was late at night when I was headed home after a long night of partying. I don’t know why that was. But I used to find myself there often enough, sitting in the drive-thru line with a lot of other no doubt similarly bewildered drunks, not even able to remember making the decision to go there in the first place. It was like my car drove itself. I would end up ordering way more than I could ever eat, and often by the time I got home I didn’t want any of it. So I’d throw the bag into the ‘fridge and go to bed. And then a week or so later I would throw it away. Taco Bell stockholders got rich off of all the bean burritos I bought back in those days, and never ate.
*****
The first Taco Bell here was over on 11th Street, across from Gateway. I think it is a Vietnamese seafood place now. That location was pretty popular in high school. It had this faux volcano thing out front, with a smudge pot stuck into the top of it, lit up. We called it the eternal flame. Most kids went there because it was the only place open after midnight where one could go if one was suffering from an onset of the munchies.
I got thrown out of there one night, by some little burrito-making dude, for laughing too much. That’s right. I was in there with a friend of mine, and for some reason everything he said to me was hilarious, and I went into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Weird.
Another night I walked in there at some ungodly hour and caught the little burrito dude making “refried” beans. He had a steam table tray on the counter, into which he had dumped a couple of institutional-sized cans of pinto beans. He had a Black & Decker ½ inch power drill with a paint-stirrer attachment in it. And he was going to town. This is a true story. He was puréeing the beans with a power drill. I found that both repulsive and, at the time, extremely amusing; and I ended up laughing my way out of there again. Since then, except for all the times I was legally intoxicated, I have denied myself the pleasure of eating at Taco Bell. It is my loss, I am sure.
*****
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