Run for the border

Sadly, despite the title, this post has nothing to do with today's boycott or immigration reform or any other important topics about which I could comment. (It's not that I don't have some opinions on these matters, but I'm not generally the debating or political discussion type. I like to hear other people's opinions, but I'm not one to share my own thoughts or commentary readily. We can go into the reasons for this at a later date.)

No, this post is about my embarrassing love for the Taco Bell. Which I had for lunch today. You know, in support of the cause. Now I'm not really big on the fast-food (I haven't had a BigMac in years), but I do have a few weaknesses: mainly In-n-Out Burger, Arby's roast beef slathered in "horsey sauce", and sausage egg McMuffins. But Taco Bell, hell that's like my Kryptonite.

Perhaps because of the complete dearth of convenient Taco Bells in the City, when I happen upon one I am helpless to resist. I don't know what they put in the "tacos" but it's clearly addictive. Even the mixed KFC/Taco Bell sites draw me in, although frankly the idea of being able to order mashed potatoes and gravy with my chalupa completely freaks me out.

After a few months I'll actually experience cravings that get bad enough I've been known to catch a bus out to distant neighborhoods in search of a double-decker taco supreme. To demonstrate my addiction, let me tell a brief tale (which many of you have heard) from a few years ago of just such a mission.

Upon crossing town, with the Bell in my sights, I stepped out into the crosswalk -- with the light, I might add -- when out of nowhere careened a silver car, taking a left and slamming right into me. After flying into the street and rolling across the asphalt, I pulled myself up over the hood of the car (seeing the bloodied spectre of the person she just hit rise up in front of her totally sent the woman behind the wheel into hysteria, which was about the only satisfaction I can take from the whole episode, as it turns out), and after making sure I wasn't dead, trying to calm her down, and exchanging info, what did I do? Yes, I proceeded across the damn intersection and into that Taco Bell.

I did ask to use their restroom to try to clean myself up a little (though promptly realized that if I got my open wounds anywhere near that sink I was likely to contract something nasty), but when I returned the key I... also ordered dinner. After all that, there was no way in hell I was limping out of there without my gordita.