Thoughts On Dining-In at Taco Bell

I sincerely hope that none of you will be put-off by that title, because, though the title may sound somewhat trivial, it is my sincerest hope that this particular be anything but.

First of all, let me begin by saying now that I do try to not eat much fast food. I really do. Its just not feasible to avoid it sometimes though. I know, I know. It is avoidable, but, honestly, the convenience is just too . . . well . . . convenient to not go with fast food occasionally and usually my fast food of choice is McDonald's. I know its not good for me and I, like most good American consumers, just really don't give a shit. Lets not kid ourselves here. When you crave a hamburger - no when you crave french fries, you crave McDONALD'S french fries. McDONALD'S hamburgers. I think deep down, like Baudrillard said would happen in Simulacra and Simulation, McDonalds' simulation of a hamburger has become, for the most part, the reality of what a hamburger is, etc etc.

But where I usually, typically, 99.99999% of the time do NOT go is Taco Bell, mostly because a) they don't really serve food there, and b) because they were featured prominently in Demolition Man (come on, don't even pretend you don't remember it!) Honestly, my going there tonight was a product of absolute laziness and convenience: I was too lazy to leave Mall Road tonight to get food and Taco Bell is, conveniently, the only fast food restaraunt on the aforementioned street. So I went to the new, nifty looking "prototype" Taco Bell and my life may never be the same again.

First of all, for those of you who have never been into this store, I really recommend a special trip to it. Sure, there're no fountains, marble or brass to be seen anywhere, but nonetheless the restaraunt is exhibits a certain allure. It is designed well: richly hued walls, contempo-abstract art adorning the walls that only, upon the third or fourth examination, yield the graffiti-ized Taco Bell logos hidden within, a bright spacious dining room furnished with obviously well-made, heavy tables and chairs, and a clear and open view of the kitchen area. When I first entered the store though, I noticed none of these things so much as the scruffily-bearded man-child (17 or 18 at the oldest) sitting at a table closest to the door, his arm slung in practiced non-chalance over the chair back and who was glaring at me. Our eyes met. Remembering my jungle training, I looked away to the menu but from the corner of my eye, I could see he continued to stare. I returned his gaze. I could feel the cackles on my neck begin to raise as he released his pheromones into the air. An attack was imminent. I moved fastest. "How's it going?" I muttered at him, and returned my attention to the menu. From behind the bar, the portly and somewhat jovial young lad who, ostensibly, would momentarily be taking my order giggled mirthfully and called out, "Hehehe, Jeff's intimidating the customers again! Haha, Jeff you're messed up!" I was pleased. I had passed the first test.

Next, with Jeff behind me, I moved on to the next ordeal: the menu. Taco Bell's menu is what I assume menus on Big Rock Candy Mountain would be like. Nothing is more expensive than $3.29. Nothing. Dropping any dead presidents at all there will yield a veritable cornacopia of delights. Considering now the novelty of my position, I decided to attempt to order the closest-to-well-balanced meal that the establishment could offer: 2 grande soft taco supremes (classic but delicious,) fiesta potatos (the only "side dish" that Taco Bell offers,) a water to drink, and an Apple Empanada (for dessert.) The young man proved so adept at his job that he managed to devote nearly no attention to me whatsoever during this exchange. Impressed was not nearly the word I would use to describe how I felt. I took my cup to the soda fountain and only now began to take stock of my fellow wayfarers who were sheltering from the storm here with me. A woman about my age, well dressed, with a young boy wearing a really quite neat X-Men shirt and a young couple so comfortable with the prototype store that they were able to make-out nearly the entire time I was there.

At any rate though, next, after a somewhat protracted amount of time, my order was called and my food presented to me. My food was actually delicious, but that's exactly what I would have expected. Let me explain. My 2 grande soft taco supremes (three adjective for one dish! decadent!) were each a soft taco shell slathered in melted cheese, with another soft taco shell loaded then with "meat," cheese, lettuce, sour cream and MORE melted cheese. My potatoes were small hashbrown-type products slathered in a swamp of liquid cheese and then thickly frosted in sour cream, and my empanada was, basically, one of those cheap Hostess fruit pies only deep fried. Heaven only wishes it had dishes so delicious as Taco Bell's delicacies and, honestly, I wished deep down that I had bought a large Baja Mountain Dew to wash it down with because surely the only drink suitable for washing down such delicacies is Mountain Dew.

At this point, Jeff the Door Man, Portly the Money Taker, and rather loud woman with poor teeth who I believe was the manager got into a rather loud argument as to who was the most "hardcore." The makers-out took a break from eating their burritos to make continue their preferred activity and I, feeling less than "extreme," was unable to finish my last grande soft taco supreme. I wadded up my trash and now, for the first time, took note of my tray liner. Displayed upon it, was a series of rich, delicious looking foods (steaks, cheeses, whole grains, etc.) along side Taco Bell's promise to deliver the highest quality product to me and my family. Looking up, I saw a family of grandparents, parents, and several children come through the door and begin to discuss what they'd be having for dinner and, in that moment, I was stuck by truly how fortunate we all are for living in the U.S. during the 21st Century.

This story was entirely true.