Joey goes to Taco Hell

Please, please note. The only reason I'm posting this at ALL, is that everything has been so negative lately. Stuff that's depressing and downright violent. And if I Blog today about RL, it's going to be an angry rant about my friend who was raped Tuesday, and violence, and my warring opinions on gun control.

Instead, I'm handing the Blog over to Joey, who has been itching to tell this one for a while. Next to Jack and Ryan Raven, it's probably some of the funniest stuff I've written so far. Not funny haha for everyone else, but funny for me, because it happened to us, late one night on the way home. Some of the best stuff I write comes from things that actually happened. And when I find myself in a big writer's block, it's usually because I've been sitting in front of the computer too long and not out DOING things.

Anyhow, the disclaimer. This is going to come off sounding, I'm sure, a LOT politically incorrect. Maybe racist, Gods, please don't take any of this the wrong way. The truth is, there are a lot of foriegn folks who work at the fast food joints out in Springhurst, and frequently there are those who can't speak any more English than what is required to do their job.

I'm not saying anything bad about them. I wish them well. I'm not going to say any more. If someone out there takes issue with this, especially any of my friends, please email me at arawenne@yahoo.com.

And now for a laugh, if only for my own sake, to get us back on track with the lighter, blonder, side of my psyche.




It was late Friday night when we pulled into the local Taco drive-thru. It’s very rare for Jo and I to drive anywhere, but we’d been dancing for hours and were both craving Mexican food. Apparently everyone else in the known universe had the same thought, because the line was almost out on the street when we got there. Content to talk in the car, relax for a while and listen to the stereo, we sat and waited. This is when Tad filled me in on all that had been going on with the Carter situation. A lot of it I knew already, but I got the 411 with details and Jo’s observations. We both had a good laugh over all of it.
I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line; the people that take your order in the Drive-thru forgot how to have any manners. My sister Rachel worked at the Burger King down the street from the high school when she was a teenager. She and her friends there were always so polite. Now I get stunted sentences without even a Hello. “Take your order!” replaces “welcome to taco land, can I help you?” and “upsize?”, that’s the whole sentence, replaces “will that be all?” And let us not forget my favorite, “(insert undecipherable scrambled jumble of words here) first window”.
Amazingly, we eventually made it to the “Pay” window. Having sat in the car for well over twenty minutes, we had plenty of time to get the money ready. Some foreign looking employee stood there smiling at us, saying and doing nothing else. Since I was holding the money out the window, ready for him to take, this seemed like a pretty stupid thing for him to do. Then again, I never went to the high tech world of fast food training school, so what do I know. Giving up, I asked what the total was supposed to be. I could swear he said one hundred thirteen dollars and twenty eight cents. This seemed a little high for four tacos and two Cokes, so I handed over a twenty. Finally, some progress, he took it. Instead of change, he gave me a wad of napkins and a straw. I know these items are probably priceless somewhere in the world, but here in the US, I want some George Washingtons back, at the very least. He asked a question in what I can only assume is Taco Speak. I looked at Tad, who informed me I was being asked if we needed any sauce. Promptly, the nice fellow thrust fifteen packets of hot sauce in my hands, where they joined the napkins and straws in my lap. Um, thanks mister taco dude, but I’m trying to drive here. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this shit? And besides, the guy in the Ford Explorer in front of me got all his sauces and napkins in a neat little plastic bag. Apparently, having Tad along for the ride ticked off the Taco gods or something. The car in front of us pulled away. Hallelujah, Mexican food at last, possibly made by real Mexicans! Then I remembered that I still didn’t get any change. I looked expectantly at the guy, who was still standing there smiling at us. “Um, I guess I’ll hold all this great stuff you gave me, but do you think I could get my change?” His response was friendly, and long, and not in English OR taco language. I looked at Jo, and she shrugged. The kid vanished suddenly… not Pip and he’s gone, just, ran off. Sigh. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, and found myself singing along through most of Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song before the kid came back with some money. Hell, I didn’t even count it at that point; I just wanted cash and food.
At the next window, the teenage boy spoke English and had our food waiting. I smiled and told him their napkin and sauce system left a lot to be desired. He saw the pile of junk in my lap and laughed good-naturedly. Apparently this was a common, but unfixable, problem- since many of the other employees don’t speak much English. We took the bag of tacos, and our cokes, and I peeled the hell out of there before anyone tried to take away our rather large stash of hot sauce. I looked at the hot sauce, and looked at Tad, raised a brow and gave her a wicked grin. She laughed and ignored me. Oh well. As we pulled out onto the street and stopped at a red light, I looked over at Tad and we both had the same thought that we shouted out loud to each other, laughing hysterically. I could tell you what it is, but then I'd have to kill you.


I know, it sounds a bit like a rant, but it makes me smile every time. Thank you, Joey. And now I must yeild the floor to Jack and Ryan, my true comedic muses. We downloaded Napster the other day, and so I'm setting about to DL the Godzilla song, because those cowboys are just so damned cute in their Godzilla and King Kong costumes. Don't ask.