Hello, nonexistent readers of my oh-so-not-so-humble-blog. This post is much longer than I intended it to be. Don't complain. I may just order 50 tacos in front of you at Taco Bell.
Thanksgiving was this past weekend (or Thursday.) I hope you had a good time with family, or by yourself if that's your thing. Which I understand.. Cause some families are CRAZY yo. Yes, I can say yo. DON'T LOOK AT ME THAT WAY!
So, the plan was to leave after choir practice (Kenneth's choir not mine!), drive a few hours to sleep in Virginia. We were in Virginia right Kenneth? I really have no idea. I just show up and do what I'm told most of the time. Kenneth is my life coach-planner-organizer-person. I should sell clones of him for unorganized or non-tech-savvy people. I will call it the Kenomatic.
BACK ON TOPIC. So we finished choir practice (for which there were FOUR choir members) and got on the road. I was kinda hungry, so in my not-so-subtle way,
Me: "Kenneth I'm hungry."
Ken: "Ok, what do you want?"
Me: "Oh whatever you want is fine."
Ken: "How about Arby's?"
Me: "OH PLEASE GOD NO!" (I don't like their song Good Mood Food? Did a FIVE YEAR OLD WRITE THAT?)
Ken: "Kentucky Fried Chicken?"
Me: "OH GOD NO!" (Bowls... are disgusting.)
Ken: "How about---"
Me: "Oh look a Taco Bell!"
Ken: *pulls in*
This is generally how food selection goes.. I pretend I don't know what I want and hope Kenneth will use his mind-reading powers to guess what I actually want.
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I probably wouldn't have minded so much if it had
looked like this. |
Omg how did I get so off topic. I wanted to talk about the hostage situation!!!! Ok anyway, so we pull into Taco Bell. We never have Taco Bell any more cause we are watching what we eat, so this is a treat for us. We pull in behind a BIG BLACK TRUCK. It didn't look exactly like the one in the picture, but it was close.
He takes a few seconds to order and then we pull up to the menu in our cute silver Honda Civic. A very nice sounding gentleman comes over the speaker and says "Please take a moment to look over the menu and I'll be right back with you."
I think this is fabulous. Someone working a drive-through speaker system that can put a complete sentence together and obviously is kind of busy, but cares enough to let me know. GREAT! An intelligent person at Taco Bell! I feel slightly better about my fast-food choice.
A few minutes pass. Kenneth and I have a great conversations concerning wolverines and Deep Space Nine. And wolverines attacking Deep Space Nine. And things like that. So we don't even notice the clock moving.
Five minutes pass, taking this into the NO LONGER FAST FOOD arena. I glance at the clock, but shrug it off thinking that they must be really busy. Kenneth and I talk some more, this time about the merits of different Star Trek captains by the ratio of hair covering their head. I think our scale is flawed because Janeway has tons of hair and is awesome, but Picard has like none and is ALSO AWESOME. And Kirk is somewhere in between and is a douche.
Ten Minutes. Fifteen. At this point I'm getting kind of pissed off and people in the huge line that has formed behind us start honking their horns. I develop a complex. Do they think I'm ordering the entire menu? Do I need the calorie count of a bean burrito and every ingredient read out to me? NO! I am waiting! So I start talking to the speaker, hoping they'll talk back. All the while, Big Black Truck man is waiting at the food-window. This is the point where I'd say "Fuck Taco Bell." And drive off. But someone at Taco Bell had their thinking cap on and put a big ass CURB around their drive through. If I was rocking a Range Rover or previously mentioned Big Black Truck, I'da jumped that bitch. But I drive a cute little Honda Civic. No way Jose. I drew a little diagram to help you.
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Blue: Taco Bell
Green: Menu Speaker
Red Arrow: US
Pink arrow: Big Black Truck
Black Line: UNSURMOUNTABLE CURB
Yellow Dots: Everyone who is not trapped at Taco Bell |
No one.
Fifteen + minutes. I whip out my iPhone, locate the store on the map, and call their ass. Some happy sounding chick answers the phone. I tell her that I am currently being held hostage at her menu speaker thing and that no one has talked to us since the dinosaurs were having Taco Bell. She hands me off (as she should) to a manager. I run down the situation to him (he sounds remarkably like aforementioned well-spoken-speaker-man) and he sighs. He tells me that the guy in front of us (Big Black Truck) has ordered 50 tacos. I express my frustration with their management of this scenario, he says "I'm just making food here Ma'am."
Now.. You're probably thinking the same thing I am. I get asked to "Pull around." When I order a caeser salad sometimes. He doesn't ask this dude for 50 tacos?
Reasons for Ordering 50 Tacos:
- You are an animal hoarder and your 400 cats exist solely on Taco Bell Tacos.
- You're a roadie for a band and got stiffed for your dinner-run and decided to punish them with 59 cent tacos.
- You're trying to make my life miserable.
But to make a long story short, I got NO apology when they promptly took my order after I called in to complain. No coupon, no free food. Nothin'. Just a "Have a nice day." So.. I will blacklist them to my loyal readership (of which there are none!)
BEWARE THIS TACO BELL. THEY WILL HOLD YOU HOSTAGE.
820 Eastgate South Dr.
Cincinnati, OH 45245-1545
Many other things happened these past few days, but I've written enough today. DEAL.
Carry On,
Jess
Update: Kenneth informs me that we were actually in West Virginia. I was busy watching Harry Potter, and thus did not notice states going by.
He also would like me to mention that we might have not been discussing wolverines.